


But I'm Not the Enemy

by like_vines



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Commoner!Thomas, Knight!Minho, M/M, Prince!Newt, Royalty AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 57,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3184997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_vines/pseuds/like_vines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas turned his head to look at him, grinning. “You going to tell me your name now, Greenie?” </p><p>“Not a chance, shuckface,” Newt shot back. He could feel Thomas’ breath on his neck and felt his cheeks heat up. “Why’d you drag me here, anyway? Seems a lot like a bloody dumb date.” </p><p>♛♛♛</p><p> </p><p>After his father's death, Newt, the Prince of the Scorch, starts to sneak out of the palace at night as a peasant. Thomas finds himself intrigued with the stranger he sees only at night. But as trouble stirs within the castle, it's revealed that things are much more complicated than they originally thought.</p><p> </p><p>(On hiatus)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And So It Begins

He woke up to the moonlight.

Newt yawned, rubbing his eyes. He frowned, glancing out the window. It was late, and yet, something had woken him up. He scanned the room, but it seemed undisturbed. His crown was on his nightstand, as always. His books were clustered on his desk.

“Alby?” He called out. “You there?” He scanned the room again. “Minho?”

Silence answered him, and goosebumps appeared on Newt’s arms. His back stiffened, apprehension rising. He slid out of bed, the sheets rustling, gently putting his feet on the floor. Taking even, quiet steps, he walked out of his chambers. The sight made his heart drop and skin pale.

On the wall there was a crude drawing, in what Newt hoped was red paint, of a man’s face. But instead of eyes, the face had a pair of suns. He was crying drops of red, grinning a cruel smile. The guards that were posted outside his door were all lying in a heap, their throats cut open, blood seeping out of the wound and onto the floor, leaving ugly stains. Their eyes had empty stares.

Newt opened his mouth to scream, but all of a sudden his mouth was covered, and his arms constrained. He thrashed, but the abductors grip only tightened. Newt assumed it was a man--his body was large and shaped too flat and broad for a woman. He was wearing black leather gloves that rubbed his skin. Acting on impulse, Newt bit down on the man’s hand and he cursed, releasing him. Newt started to run, legs and arms pumping.

“Help!” He screamed. “Guards!”

He could hear the man behind him, loud and clunky. Newt wasn’t really worried. With steps like that, he was obviously faster than the man. He yelled for help again, hearing his words echo off the walls.

A figure in black dropped from the ceiling, stopping Newt in his tracks. This one was a girl, dressed in men’s clothes, her face covered by a mask. In her hand, a sword gleamed in the moonlight.

“Bloody hell,” Newt panted, glancing behind him. The man was already there, breathing heavily. He was also wearing a mask, but unlike the girl, his eyes were showing. They looked almost black in the darkness.

“You’re fast, kid,” he said, and his voice was scratchy, like he smoked too many cigars. To Newt’s disappointment and fear, he was now also armed, a knife shining in each hand. “Not that it helped much. Now, you can make this easier for us and yourself by coming with us nicely.”

Newt didn’t answer. He glanced back at the girl. She hadn’t moved, and was watching silently. There was something about her that Newt didn’t like. She looked thin and frail, but Newt had a feeling she was the brains and fire power in this operation. So he turned back towards the man and ran straight towards him.

The man faltered, as if taken by surprise. But he quickly regained his senses, thrusting out his knife. Newt dodged but it still managed to graze his shoulder, and he winced. He sprinted past the man and down the hallway. He could hear guards shouting and the clang of swords. How many intruders were here? Where was his family?

Suddenly, a weight crashed onto his back and he cried out, landing hard on his stomach. His head slammed into the stone floor and he saw stars, ears ringing. She held her sword to his throat, pausing his movements. His heart pounded and he took a shaky breath. His vision began to blur.

_A concussion_ , he thought, vaguely remembering reading about it in one of his textbooks. He clenched his eyes shut.

He heard the man arrive, panting. “That’s one fast son of a bitch,” he wheezed. “We should just kill him.”

“We’re not allowed,” she said, and her voice was soft, almost calming. It didn’t fit the situation at all. “Hold him down for me.”

The man obeyed, proving Newt’s theories that this girl was in charge. Newt started to thrash and struggle, but it made his head spin and overall, was no use. The man was stronger than the girl, and almost twice Newt’s size.

The girl knelt down and grabbed a hold of Newt’s ankle. Her hands were ice cold.

Before Newt could even question what she was doing, the girl slammed the butt of her sword onto his ankle bone with unknown strength.

Hearing a crack, Newt screamed, pain shooting up his leg and practically immobilizing him. The girl did it again, and again. Tears streamed down Newt’s cheeks.

Even the man seemed surprised. “Why did you do that?”

“Get off him,” she ordered, bypassing his question. “He won’t run now.”

Newt wasn’t really sure what happened after that. His head ached and he felt sick. He heard swords being drawn, heard yelling and cries of pain. He saw blurs of black and silver.

But there was one moment of clarity. Newt had somehow sat up, but his head spun and his vision seemed to blur at the edges. He watched his father storm in, bypassing the knights and black dressed figures. He saw his father give him a worried glance. He saw his father’s eyes widen and rush over to him, glancing over him, as if someone was behind him. He turned around, staring at the figure with a knife in his hand, and closed his eyes, bracing himself.

But opened his eyes to see his father with a knife in his chest instead.

He screamed in horror as he watched the body fall.

“I’ll always protect you,” his father coughed out, blood dripping out of his mouth. His eyes started to dull. “Always.”

By the time the reinforcements barged in, their King was dead and their Prince was broken.

♛♛♛

 

The town was alive, tonight. Lanterns lined the streets that were filled with people. Some were dancing along to the music two men were playing, one on the violin and another on the accordion. Children ran around, giggling and stealing treats from old men.

Newt pulled his hat down further, not really knowing what the celebration was for. He was dressed in commoner rags and his long hair was tied up in a messy bun. Dirt was smeared onto his arms and clothes. He even sprinkled some into his hair for good measure.

Newt enjoyed sneaking out to the village. He enjoyed being able to do whatever he wanted without worrying how it would affect his image. He enjoyed being able to be human--to be pushed around by drunk men and scowled out, instead of being this high being that people were forced to respect.

He passed a small bakery and backtracked, drawn in by the smell. He looked in the window and saw a young and strangely hairy baker placing fresh bread out on the counter. Newt entered the store, and nodded at him.

“How much?” He asked.

“Five gems, Greenie,” the baker answered. From the previous times the Prince in hiding had snuck out, Newt had learned quickly that ‘Greenie’ was really just slang for a stranger, or foreigner. Apparently everyone in the town knew each other in some sense--maybe not the person’s actual name, but knew their face, at least.

He paid for a slice of bread with the spare money he brought, giving him slightly extra and ignoring the dumbfounded look on the baker’s face. He quickly exited the bakery, taking a bite. One thing that Newt found miraculous about the town was that sometimes the food was better than the meals the chefs at the palace took hours to cook. Maybe it was just the atmosphere, filled with laughter but also tiredness at the same time. Or maybe it was just because it actually was better, that simple and plain was sometimes better than complicated and fancy.

Newt walked, not really going anywhere, just watching. He usually just went to the tavern to drink when he snuck out, but he never talked to anyone. His disguise wasn’t _that_ good, and besides, he was fine with just looking. He liked how free they looked. He envied them, in some ways.  

"Things just haven't been the same since the king died," he heard a woman with long, black hair say and he gritted his teeth.

The woman next to her nodded. "Yes, the taxes have gone over the roof. And the palace has been more closed off than usual..."

"Not to mention that the king's death was so sudden," the black haired woman replied. "And with barely an explanation as well.”

“I’ve heard talk that he was murdered,” the other woman said. “That he was killed by someone in the palace.”

“I’ve heard some nasty things about the queen, too, and that son of hers.”

A large boy bumped into him, making him drop his slice of bread, and he scowled. A young child whipped by, picking it up and scampering off before Newt could even blink.

“Watch where you’re going, shank!” The boy hissed.

Newt gave him an annoyed glare. He had really wanted to finish that slice of bread. “Look, you bumped into me, shuck-face.”

The boy’s face reddened in anger, eyes squinting. “I’ve never seen you here before, Greenie,” he said. “What’s your name?

“None of your bloody business,” Newt muttered, turning away, but the man grabbed him by his collar, yanking him close. His breath stank of alcohol.

“I asked you a question, Greenie,” he hissed.

Newt stared back at the man evenly. “And I chose not to answer it.”

The boy fumed, raising a fist, and for a second Newt panicked, because if he showed up at the palace the next day with a black eye, the whole thing would be over and he would never be able to free himself from the confinements of the castle. But then a hand rested on the other boy’s shoulder, stopping him.

“Gally,” a calm, strong voice said. “Take it easy.”

Gally scowled, and didn’t move. But after a few moments, he relented, releasing Newt roughly, making him stumble. “Get out of my sight, shuck-face.”

Newt glared at him, but the boy turned around and left.

“Sorry about that. Gally’s actually a pretty good person, but he’s kinda hot headed.”

Newt turned. The boy who had stopped Gally was standing there, a sheepish grin on his face. He looked around his age, and had dark hair and warm brown eyes. “I can tell,” Newt muttered, crossing his arms.

The boy smiled. “I’m Thomas,” he said, holding out his hand.

Newt reached out and shook it. His hands were warm and callused from labor. “Nice to meet ya, Thomas.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re not going to tell me your name?”

“What makes you think you’ve got the right to know if your bloody friend didn’t?” Newt shot back.

“Well,” he started. “I did save you from said friend.”

Newt scoffed. “I didn’t need you to in the first place.

“Right,” Thomas drawled, making Newt scowl. He glanced away from Thomas’ smirk.

“What’s up with the party?” He asked, because he was genuinely curious. It wasn’t the solstice, or any type of big holiday, really. So what was the big deal about today?

Thomas grinned. “It’s a full moon today,” he explained, pointing to the sky. “We believe that full moons on the first of the month bring luck.”

“Ain’t the sun more important to you guys?” Newt asked, frowning. He didn't even know anything about this, and these were supposedly his people. "Being in the Kingdom of the Scorch and all."

“We believe that the sun gives us life and prosperity.” Thomas stated, though Newt already knew that. “During the day he gives us life through his rays. We cherish the moon--especially full moons-- because it gives us a break from the sun.”

Understanding passed through Newt’s features. “A break from life,” he said, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

Thomas grinned, taking his hand again. Newt stiffened and the boy laughed. “Calm down,” he said, dragging him through the throngs of people.

“Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer, and Newt scowled. But he let the boy lead him through the crowd, listening to the music and people’s laughter.

“Where are you from?” Thomas asked, glancing back at him.

“Around,” Newt snapped, wanting to discourage the boy from asking anymore questions. But he just grinned again, and Newt had a hard time believing anyone could ever be that carefree.

“Fine, then. Where do you live now? Are you staying with relatives or something?”

“You could say that,” he replied. “You like to ask a lot of questions, don’t ya?”

Thomas grinned. “I’m just curious. I always see you come to the tavern, but you never talk to anyone. Just come in and then leave.”

“Have you been bloody watching me?” Newt asked grumpily. “That’s kinda creepy, ya know.”

Thomas’ cheeks turned pink. “Not like that,” he sputtered, letting go of Newt’s hand. “I just found you interesting.”

Newt smirked at the boy’s reaction. “You still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

“You’ll see,” Thomas replied. He turned around and after a few moments, Newt followed, stumbling a little to keep up.

_Damn limp_ , he thought bitterly, watching the ground. His steps seemed lazy and uncoordinated compared to the other boy’s. They continued to walk side by side, the crowd thinning the further they went. Soon, it was just the two of them, and Thomas nudged his shoulder, nodding his head towards the alleyway between two houses. Newt stopped walking, pausing because he was basically with a stranger and everyone knew strangers and dark alleyways didn’t mix.

Thomas seemed to see his thought process because he chuckled. “It’s not like that. I’m not a molester, I swear.” He held out his hand encouragingly, smiling.

Hesitating, Newt tentatively grabbed the other boy’s hand again. Thomas’ smile widened and he lead him into the alleyway. It was littered with trash. There was a ladder leaning on one wall, and Thomas placed a foot on the first rung, then paused, as if in realization.

“Can you climb it?” He asked gently and Newt scowled pushing the boy out of the way.

“Of course I can, you bloody shank,” he mumbled, placing his bad foot on the ladder first. Taking a moment to prepare, Newt pushed off, wincing a little. It hurt, but it was bearable.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m stupid, we don’t have to do this--”

“Shuck it, Thomas,” Newt interrupted, and then he started to climb. He started to get the hang of it, found a way to adapt to make it easier for him, and made it to the roof of the house in no time. Luckily, it wasn’t very slanted. Thomas was right behind him, swiftly sliding onto the roof.

Newt scanned his surroundings. To the north, he could see the festival glowing in the distance, could still faintly hear the music and chatter. And past that, there was the palace, with it’s familiar turrets and towers. The windows glowed faintly with yellow light, and the moon made the white stone of the palace gleam. To the east there was the ocean, the moon’s light reflecting off the waves.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Thomas said, making Newt turn to look at him. He was laying on a old, ratty blanket that must have already been there from previous visits. A pillow was tucked underneath his head. Another one was right next to him, and he patted at the spot next to him.

“Is this even your house?” Newt asked, but he moved to lie down next to him anyway. At this view, the only thing he could see was the stars.

Thomas grinned sheepishly. “Not exactly,” he admitted. “But I still come here a lot.”

Newt didn’t say anything. The blanket was kind of small--their entire sides touched. He didn’t exactly know what he was doing here, but he didn’t want to leave and that was what surprised him most. He wasn’t stupid. He knew it was a bad idea to make friends like this, especially since they could never really know who he was. All the lying would hit him square in the face once they found out.

“Why’d you decide to move here?” Thomas asked, breaking the silence. “Did something happen at your old town?”

_So many questions,_ Newt thought wryly. “No,” he answered carefully. “I just wanted something different for myself.”

The boy nodded. “Yeah, I can understand that.” He folded his arms over his stomach, causing his elbow to dig into Newt’s side a little, but he didn’t really mind. “Get’s kind of boring doing the same things everyday, seeing the same people.”

Newt kept quiet again, and Thomas turned his head to look at him, grinning. “You going to tell me your name now, Greenie?”

“Not a chance, shuckface,” Newt shot back. He could feel Thomas’ breath on his neck and felt his cheeks heat up. “Why’d you drag me here, anyway? Seems a lot like a bloody dumb date.”

“Maybe it is,” Thomas teased, and Newt was shocked into laughter. He had to admit, the guy was something else. “And you’ll see. It’ll happen any minute, now. Might want to sit up, though,” he advised, pushing himself up on his elbows. “Better view that way.”

Newt frowned, but obliged, sitting up. He rested an arm on one knee, sighing.

But then a large boom sliced through the air, and Newt watched as the firecracker sailed up and exploded into bursts of red. Pretty soon the whole sky was filled with color, and people were cheering.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Thomas said, sounding pleased with himself. “Right here’s the best view.”

“Yeah,” Newt agreed, because it really was. He had seen fireworks before, of course, but the view at the palace wasn’t anything close to this.

“On days we have festivals, they always shoot fireworks at around midnight,” Thomas said, smiling. “It’s the best part.”

Newt froze, paling. “At around midnight?” He asked, quickly standing up. The shift change for the guards at the castle was at around one, and it was his only chance in sneaking back into the palace.

Thomas stared at him, startled. “Yeah, why? What’s wrong?”

“I gotta go,” Newt mumbled, already heading towards the ladder. He quickly descended, wincing a little at the pain that flared in his ankle. He quickly half ran half walked out of the alley, Thomas stumbling behind him.

“Wait!” Thomas called out, running into the light. It made his skin glow bronze. “Can’t you at least tell me your name?”

Newt paused, turning around. He smirked at him. “I’ll see you around, Tommy.”

And then he turned and ran, weaving in and out of the crowd until Thomas could no longer see him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think? Sorry, the first chapter's a bit dull.


	2. Like vines we intertwined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You look like a tired piece of klunk,” the dark skinned boy stated, as they walked towards the doors that led to the dining room. “Even though you insisted on getting to bed early, making me do a whole more shuck load of work.”
> 
> “Shut up, ya bloody shank,” the Prince retorted, because Alby was perpetually angry, and he was used to it by now.

Newt held in a yawn as he walked out of his chambers. He had slept for an hour or two at the most. When he had snuck back into his room, he had quickly bathed and hopped onto his bed. But instead of going to sleep right away, he tossed and turned for hours, exhausted but not able to sleep. That was also one of the reasons Newt had started sneaking out--insomnia made him restless to go out and do something.

Alby walked down the hallway next to him with a frown on his face. The hallways were lined with windows that let in the sunlight, shining the marble floors. Paintings hung from the walls. Designs were carved into the white stone.

“You look like a tired piece of klunk,” the dark skinned boy stated, as they walked towards the doors that led to the dining room. “Even though you insisted on getting to bed early, making me do a whole more shuck load of work.”

“Shut up, ya bloody shank,” the Prince retorted, because Alby was perpetually angry, and he was used to it by now. Alby was Newt’s best friend, and had been his manservant since he was younger. But Newt never placed the title on him--he thought it sounded a bit degrading, and knew Alby felt the same way. Plus, he would probably kick his ass if he did. An angrier than usual Alby was not something you wanted to see.

“Your Highness,” the boy chided mockingly, “It is improper of you to use such foul language.”

He whacked him in the head, and the pair continued walking, Newt trying his best to keep his steps even. Princes did not limp. When they entered the dining hall, Alby headed towards the back while Newt sat down at the empty table. The chairs were made of elegant, polished wood and were cushioned with velvet plush. A large chandelier made of glass hung from the ceiling. The walls were decorated with portraits and designs that were carved into the stone walls and lined with gold. The table itself was long enough to sit six people on each side, with the King or Queen on the end, which Newt always found a bit awkward, because only him, his sister, and his mother sat at the table. Aileen, who was only ten, was still too young to have Ladies in Waiting.

As if on cue, his sister entered the dining hall, escorted by a maid. She was dressed in a light blue gown, making her eyes pop out, her blonde hair curled and styled to perfection. Her crown, lined with diamonds, was placed delicately on her head. She always reminded Newt of the dolls she used to own, beautiful in the childish way a doll was.

She smiled at him, eyes brightening. “Good morning,” she greeted, sliding into the chair across from him.

“Good morning,” he replied, noticing the bags beneath her eyes. The corners of his lips quirked up. “Aren’t you shuck tired.”

She yawned, instantly covering it with her hand. He chuckled and she glared at him.

“Mother would cringe at your language,” she teased, smiling. “I was up late reading a book last night. What’s your excuse?”

Newt cringed, rubbing his face. “That bad, huh?”

“You look exhausted,” she confirmed, a frown on her face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Newt mumbled. An image of Thomas popped into his mind, smiling in the dimly lit streets, and he frowned. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmares?” She whispered and Newt stiffened. He stared at her, at her eyebrows crinkled with worry and blue eyes that seemed too wise for her age.

He smiled and it felt hollow. “I’m fine, you little bugger. Don’t worry about me.”

Aileen opened her mouth to protest, but then the doors opened again. In came Ava Paige, Queen of the Scorch, with icy blue eyes as sharp as daggers. Her head was topped with a crown lined with jewels and her dress was crimson red, laced with golden embroidery. Servants stopped in their tracks and bowed. Newt and Aileen stood up and did the same.

“Good morning, Mother,” Aileen greeted, straightening.

“Good morning, my children,” she greeted back, gracefully sitting down at the head of the table. All at once, everyone starting moving again. Newt and Aileen sat back down in their seats. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s no problem, Mother,” Aileen replied, smiling. Servants whizzed by, serving food. Newt picked up his fork and stabbed at a blueberry, placing it in his mouth. It tasted too sweet.

Aileen continued to make small chat with her mother while Newt stayed silent. The King’s death had put distance between him and his mother, and to be honest, Newt was never very close with her in the first place.

He stayed silent the entire breakfast. His mother didn’t seem to mind.

♛♛♛

Thomas enjoyed the market. It was a bit of a shabby place, with hastily built stands and old buildings. Merchants called out items and prices in a variety of languages. People talked to their friends and laughed. The people were Thomas' favorite part. He enjoyed seeing and talking to the people, seeing the different cultures and colors. He liked how he was able to learn new things from them. It was stepping into a brand new world, where different languages and ethnicities converged and existed peacefully.

"How much?" He asked, pointing at the strawberries. They were Teresa's favorite fruit.

"Three gems a box," the merchant answered with a sharp accent, nodding his thanks as Thomas placed the coins in his hand.

He continued on his way, placing the strawberries into his satchel, catching pieces of gossip here and there. Sometimes he would stop and chat with a few familiar faces, but not very often. Lanterns still hung from the festival the previous night. Thomas smiled, remembering the boy with dark brown eyes and a charming face and smooth hands--

"Thomas!"

He turned and waved at the younger boy. "Hey, Chuck." The boy had a half eaten loaf of bread in between his dirt smudged hands and Thomas couldn't help but laugh a little. "Where'd you get that? Have you been stealing from Frypan again?"

"No," he answered, grinning. " _Teresa_ gave it to me. She wanted me to find you and knew you'd be here."

Thomas nodded, rolling his eyes at the way Chuck emphasized Teresa's name. Chuck liked to imply that Thomas and her had a thing, but to be honest, Thomas had a feeling Chuck harbored a little crush on her and was slightly jealous. "Alright. I guess my break's over," Thomas said, patting the boy's head.

"My mom was talking about you again," Chuck stated. "Called you a crazy shank."

"Oh really," Thomas replied in a dull tone. Chuck was a really great kid, but he also had really irritating qualities.

"Yup. Said that all you do is cause trouble. And that your folks kicked you out," The boy continued, taking a bite of his bread.

"Tell your mom to shuck it and mind her own business," Thomas said, scowling.

"That'd just make her dislike you more," Chuck argued, frowning.

Thomas sighed. "Run along, Chuck," he said, pushing the boy's back. "Go steal some more food, or something." The boy sneered at him before running off, and Thomas smiled when he saw those pudgy fingers furtively grab an apple from a stand. He then turned around, and headed back to the one place he could call home.

Teresa’s family lived close to the edge of town, by the harbor. They were actually pretty close to the castle, living next to the forest. Their house, a quaint, two leveled building, was right next to their blacksmiths shop, which had apparently been owned by their family for generations. It was more of a large shed, really, the wood permanently stained with soot, an old sign hanging on the front door.

Thomas had moved in to live with Teresa and her family when he was fourteen. His parents had been close with hers, and in return Teresa and Thomas were also very close. One of Thomas' earliest memories was of him and Teresa watching her father work in the shop. They had been friends for as long as he could remember.

"Hey, Tom," Teresa greeted as he slid into the shop's backdoor. She didn't even look up from her work, taking the soon to be sword out the fire, and shaping it out with a hammer. Various tools were scattered around her. She was wearing men's overalls that were stained with soot, it’s pockets also filled with tools. Her raven colored hair was tied back to show her blue eyes. Teresa was one of the best blacksmiths in town--only second to her father. "How was the marketplace?"

"Same as always," Thomas replied. "Which reminds me," he dug the strawberries out of his satchel and smiled at the way her eyes lit up. He placed them on a table and slipped on his apron and gloves. “You’re welcome.”  

“Thank you, Tom,” Teresa retorted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. But she was grinning. “Now get back to work.”

“Where’s your dad?” he asked, adding some coal to the fire.

She shrugged. “Said he had some business to do.”

He frowned, but accepted it. "When I was out, I saw a few places that I could stay in. Once I get enough money, of course."

Teresa paused, placing her hammer down. Sweat was gathered at her forehead. "You know, there's nothing wrong with you just staying here."

Thomas smiled at her. "I know," he admitted. "But I don't want to be dependent on you guys forever."

"Yes, I know," she replied, sighing. “You’ve got plenty of time, though.”

They worked together in silence for a while, or as silent as they could with the clanging of metal ringing every few seconds. To Thomas, everything about this place was home. The mess of tools and spare iron everywhere, the dim lighting of the fire, the smell of metal. Thomas’ hands were scarred and burned from his work. His clothes were permanently covered in soot and grime. And he enjoyed it, he really did. Being a blacksmith was great. But it wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

He wanted to learn. To explore. To see new things and learn new languages. He wanted to go to school and learn about history. To read books. He just wanted to know more about _everything_.

“Who was that boy you were with at the festival last night?” Teresa asked. “Was it the same guy you were talking about earlier? The ‘mysterious one at the tavern with pretty face’?”

Thomas almost dropped the scalding hot iron he held in his clampers. “I never said that,” he sputtered, ignoring Teresa’s smirk. His cheeks heated up and he was suddenly glad for the dim light. “I just said he was interesting.”

“So it was him?”

“Yeah,” Thomas answered, wiping sweat from his brow. He started working on the horseshoe he was supposed to make, hoping it would make Teresa stop asking questions and let him focus.

“What was he like?” She asked and Thomas held in a groan.

“He--he was…” _Different. Wonderful. Different._ “He was nice.”

“Oh please,” Teresa snorted, rolling her eyes. “I saw you two leave together. He was obviously more than nice. What’s his name?”

Thomas shifted uncomfortably. “I uh, never found out, actually,” he said sheepishly. “He didn’t really tell me much about himself.”

She gave him a look. “Really, Tom?”

“Hey, it’s not really my fault!” Thomas defended. “He just avoided all my questions. It made it seem like he was hiding from someone.”

“Maybe he’s a criminal,” Teresa said, and Thomas had a hard time figuring out if she was joking or not. “Or was in some type of cult.”

He blinked. “That’s insane,” he said. He thought of the guy’s smooth hands and the elegant way he moved, even with his limp. He felt a frown form on his lips. “And he...didn’t seem like the type to do dirty work. He had a limp.”

Teresa shrugged. “Well, he’ll probably be back sooner or later,” she said, dousing the sword she was working on into the water. She held it back up and inspected it, nodding her satisfaction. “Who knows, maybe he wants you to find him.”

“Mhmm,” Thomas mumbled. He thought about the boy’s smirk, and his pretty, lilting accent. He was obviously hiding something, and whatever it was, Thomas wanted to find out. 

_"I'll see you around, Tommy."_

Tommy. Teresa called him Tom, but no one had ever called him Tommy before.

"That's strange," Teresa muttered, startling Thomas out of his thoughts. She was studying the paper where they had written all the names of their customers and the items they wanted forged.

"What is?" Thomas asked.

"A request for two swords," she replied.

Thomas snorted, turning back to his work. "That's hardly strange, Teresa."

She frowned, her blue eyes troubled. "But we've never had so many requests for weapons before," she answered. "Seems like now all everyone wants are swords and knives. But for what?"

He shrugged. "Maybe they just want the extra security?"

"Yeah," Teresa mumbled, putting the paper aside. She didn't look convinced. "Maybe."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of a longer chapter but I decided to post this half first. Sorry, it's just a whole bunch of exposition. :/  
> And yeah, I couldn't help but make a sister for Newt! He would've been a great brother...  
> *sobs over The Death Cure*  
> Minho will be in the next chapter :3 see you guys then!


	3. Chance is the only game I play with, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Alright, Your Highness," Minho sneered, smirking. Honestly, he never really said the title to Newt respectfully unless in presence of the Queen. He leaned back into a fighting stance, handing Newt a sword and drawing out his own. "Show me what you got."
> 
> "Don't go easy on me," the Prince demanded, taking off his crown and gently laying it on the grass, a good distance away.
> 
> Minho snorted. "Of course."

Clint looked at him with sad eyes. Newt hated it.

“I already know what you’re gonna bloody say,” he snapped. “So you might as well get on with it.”

Clint sighed. He was a good guy, Newt knew, and the two of them were actually pretty close. “Fine. No change. If anything, it’s worse because of all the stupid klunk you do. Your foot will probably never feel the same way ever again. Happy?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Newt replied dryly.

“But you can do exercises to strengthen it,” Clint continued, ignoring the boy’s comment. “Nothing too extreme, though.”

“Uh huh,” Newt drawled.

Clint threw his hands up. “You’re not even going to listen to anything I say,” he muttered. “What’s the point?”

“How should I know? I’m not the one organizing these visits,” Newt said bitterly.

“It’s for your own good, you shank,” Alby, who had been standing in the corner, retorted. “And besides, it’s a direct order from the Queen.”

Newt just rolled his eyes, huffing. The three of them were in Newt’s chambers, Newt sitting on the edge of his bed and Clint sitting on the chair from his desk.

Clint ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Look, I know this is hard for you. But if you keep on straining it, it’s only going to get worse.”  

Newt didn’t say anything. Clint sighed, standing up. “I’ll be back next week,” he said, gathering his things. “Try to still have two feet when I come back.”

"Thanks, Doc,” Newt heard Alby mutter as Clint walked out the door. He nodded, and turned, briskly walking through the halls of the palace. Alby turned and gave him a look.

“Give the man some credit, will ya?” Alby said, frowning. “He’s trying to help, you know.”

Newt sighed, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I know,” he answered. After a moment of silence, he stood up, and when he walked out the doorway of his chambers, Alby followed.

“Where are we going?” He asked.

“Minho,” Newt replied and Alby groaned.

“Did you not hear a word of what Clint said?”

Newt sighed, ignoring the dark skinned boy. He continued to walk towards the courtyard, where most of the knights were, doing his best to hide his limp.

“But seriously,” Alby continued, “if you keep on doing this you’ll shucking screw up your leg even more, shuck-face.”

Newt scowled. He was too tired for this. “I’m fine.”

"You're still limping."

" _I'm fine,_ " Newt hissed. "Quit worrying, will you?"

Alby stopped abruptly, grabbing the other boy by his collar. “No, you’re not fine!” He spat out, and Newt’s eyes widened. Servants glanced at the pair before quickly skirting away. It wasn’t their place to question. “You were _attacked_. You were almost _kidnapped_. They shucking broke your foot so that you wouldn’t run away! And now you’ve become obsessed with all this fighting and independence klunk--when it’s the knights’ job, and my job, to protect you!”

The prince stiffened. He clenched his fists, trembling.

_“I’ll always protect you. Always.”_

“I don’t bloody want protecting!” He hissed, wrenching out of the other boy’s grasp. “You understand me, you bloody shank? I don’t want it!”

Alby opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by the courtyard doors opening.

Minho walked in, grinning his cocky smirk. His helmet was tucked under his arm--he never really enjoyed wearing it,--and he was wearing chainmail under his tunic. A sword was strapped to his waist. He waved at them and rushed over to the pair. A few other knights were streaming in, probably to report to the Queen. Sir Mark, the Keeper of the knights, walked by, quickly giving a bow to Newt before knocking Minho’s helmet out of his hand. It landed on the floor with a loud bang, making everyone in a ten feet radius cringe.

“Shucking hell!” Minho cried out angrily, picking his helmet off the floor. “You old piece of klunk!”

Sir Mark just gave the boy the finger, not looking back, already walking away.

“Shank,” Minho muttered, scowling at Newt’s grin. Even Alby split a smile.

“Hey, that’s your master,” he mocked. “Show some respect.”

Minho became Sir Mark’s squire at the age of ten. He was caught stealing food in the palace’s kitchen, but when the guards chained him up and showed him to the Queen, she just smiled. “Release him,” she had ordered, “he snuck past all of you foolish guards who’ve had years of training. Make this boy a knight.”

As a result, Minho was the youngest knight. But he had just received the title a few months ago, and was immediately assigned as the Prince’s personal knight. It didn’t really come as a surprise--the two boys expected it, even wanted it.

“Yeah, well you’re the shucking Prince and you don’t see me giving you any respect,” Minho retorted before grinning. “Are you ready?” He then glanced at the two other boys, noticing the tension between them. “What’s wrong?”

Alby, who had been quiet all this time, scowled. “Nothing, alright? And besides, you shouldn’t be encouraging him.”

“Why not?” Minho asked. “It’s not like it’s a bad thing.”

“He could end up hurting himself again, you dumb shuck!” Alby snapped.

Minho narrowed his eyes. “Or, he could learn to defend himself and save his life. Alby, the attack was almost a year ago. His foot is as healed as it’s going to get. What do you want me to do, kiss it better? Treat him like a shucking princess and hope for the best?”

Alby glowered, taking a deep breath before pinching his nose. “You know what, fine. You shanks can do whatever you want,” he stated, before storming away.

“What’s his problem?” Minho muttered, and Newt just shook his head. Minho scoffed. “Geez. You two having relationship problems or something? Trouble in paradise?”

“Shut up, Minho.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me ‘Sir Minho’?”

"I'm never bloody calling you that. Ever."

The two boys stopped by the armory, Minho picking a sword for Newt and a few knives. Then, the two headed towards their favorite spot: the Glade.

In truth, the Glade was just a smaller, enclosed courtyard that could only be accessed within the palace. It was restricted to the Royal Family, and only people with permission were able to enter it, which was one of the reasons Newt liked the place so much. Gardens lined the walls, but they were mostly just flowers. A tall willow tree resided near the far right corner, it's leaves almost brushing the ground.

"Alright, Your Highness," Minho sneered, smirking. Honestly, he never really said the title to Newt respectfully unless in presence of the Queen. He leaned back into a fighting stance, handing Newt a sword and drawing out his own. "Show me what you got."

"Don't go easy on me," the Prince demanded, taking off his crown and gently laying it on the grass, a good distance away.

Minho snorted. "Of course."

Newt grinned, readying himself, placing his bad foot back. Then he lunged.

Minho deflected the attack easily, the clang of the swords ringing throughout the Glade. They two boys continued to spar, Minho sometimes giving out pointers here and there.

"Don't get clumsy," Minho warned, jabbing his sword at Newt's side. "You're leaving openings."

Newt panted, and tried to correct himself, strengthening his stance as much as he could. He deflected Minho's attack and quickly retaliated.

"You've got an obvious disadvantage," Minho huffed, dodging the boy's blow. "Your chances are already lower. You have to use your brain--you can't win by just physical strength."

And this was one of the reasons Minho was one of Newt's closest friends. He was extremely blunt and honest. He would always, always speak his mind. He would tell Newt when he was being an idiot, and criticize him without sugarcoating anything.

He feinted right and swung his sword at the other boy, Minho just barely avoiding it. His eyes widened in surprise, and he grinned dangerously. "That's it, shuck-face!"

Newt grinned back, lunging for another strike. Pain flared at his ankle and he cursed, wincing. "Bloody hell."

"You alright?" Minho asked, but didn't stop, which Newt was grateful for.

"Fine," Newt muttered. "I'm fine."

The two boys continued placing attacks on each other. For a while, Newt seemed to be doing well. He grinned, lunging and thrusting, but then, in a flash, Minho's sword was at his throat.

The black haired boy smirked. "Not bad, Your Highness," he teased, lowering his sword. His forehead gleamed with sweat. "Got a little cocky though, didn't you?"

Newt scowled. "As if you never do," he panted, still trying to catch his breath.

Minho chuckled in agreement.

"Your Highness."

Newt turned around to see Alby standing there with a frown on his face. "What is it?"

The boy's frown deepened, and he sighed, shaking his head. "Her Majesty has ordered us to get you cleaned up and ready. She has arranged a meeting with the Royal Court and requests your attendance." He gave Minho a glance. "Sir Mark also wants to see you too, shuck-face."

Minho rolled his eyes, but Newt nodded, grabbing his crown and placing it on his head. He followed Alby to his chambers while Minho branched off in another direction, waving goodbye.

The Prince's chambers were naturally large, with white walls lined with golden designs and gray carpet. The bed was centered against the right wall. A desk and a bookcase were sitting in the far corner. There were twin doors that led out to the balcony, and another door that led to the bathroom.

After Newt had bathed, Alby helped him dress, ignoring his protests.

"Let me do my job, you shank," he grumbled, sliding on Newt's tunic. It was made of the finest silk, and was red with golden designs down the front. "And besides, you have to look decent."

"What's this bloody about?" Newt questioned, but Alby just frowned.

"Obviously nothing good," he said, sighing. He quickly brushed Newt's hair before placing his crown on his head. "There. Now get out of here."

Newt blinked. "You're not coming with?"

"Nope," he replied, shaking his head. "I'm never allowed, anyway. Minho might be there, though."

The Prince nodded, his lips turning down in puzzlement. He swiftly turned and walked out the door, heading towards the throne room. The entrance to the room were two large doors, over twenty feet high, delicately carved and lined with gold. _Regnum Illi Aestu Adficere_ , The Scorch Kingdom, was engraved into the doors in large letters. The doors were meant to look intimidating--to show the money and power the royal family had. Two guards stood at the entrance, one on each side, staring dutifully ahead.

Newt paused at the two doors bracing himself. He straightened his back and broadened his shoulders. He balanced his weight on both of his feet evenly, ignoring the slight twinge of pain in his right ankle. Holding his head up high, the Prince opened the double doors, and walked in with barely a falter to his step. _A prince must be proud. A prince must be selfless. A prince must be strong._

The inside of the throne room was lined with columns on each side. Red carpet led to the four thrones that sat elevated on a few steps, the two center ones elevated the highest. His mother sat in one, tall and proud, dressed in an elegant velvet dress. Her advisor, a man named Janson that Newt highly disliked, stood at her side. The throne next to her, where the King would have sat, stayed empty. A table had been set up for the members of the Royal Court, where they sat quietly. Newt scanned the room for familiar faces, noticing Minho standing at the edge of the room. Sir Mark was with him.

"Mother," the Prince greeted, bowing. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Come sit, my son,"  Ava said, gesturing to his throne, and Newt walked up the steps with his chin up.

"The boy still limps," he heard Janson mutter and forced himself not to scowl. He knew he did a pretty good job of hiding it: Janson just loved to pick out his faults. "Is his foot not already healed?"

"Give it time," his mother replied softly. "It's only been a few months."

"People already find faults in him," Janson accused. "Him being crippled will not help his case."

She seemed to ignore him, calling the Court to order. Everyone hushed, straightening their backs as they looked towards their Queen.

"I've summoned you all here today to talk about an event of utmost importance," Ava announced. "The Duke and Duchess of Aitheria have been killed."

Newt jerked in surprise. A murmuring spread throughout the room, but was silenced at the raise of the Queen's hand. "A trusted advisor has taken their place, and it was he who informed me of these events. We don't know who exactly is responsible," she continued, "but on the wall of the Duke's study was the same picture that was on our walls during the first attack. This is anything but a coincidence." She placed her hands delicately on her lap, blue eyes narrowing. Only the Queen could pull off dainty and intimidating at the same time. "Few months prior, my husband was killed and my son, injured. Now, the Duke and Duchess are dead. Both times, the same painting was left behind."

One of the Court members, a man who Newt believed was named Jack, said in surprise, "Your Majesty, are you implying that we have a coup in our hands?"

"Yes," she answered briskly. "I am."

This sent another round of whispers and muttering so around the room. Newt felt stiff in his seat. His hands were clenched into fists.

"Your Majesty," a young woman with dark skin and chocolate eyes named Harriet, who Minho had always tried to flirt with, said. "If I may ask, what happened to the prisoner from the first attack? Did you gather information from him?"

Ava pursed her lips. "He killed himself before we could question him."

“So what you’re saying, Your Majesty, is that we have no idea what we’re up against,” Harriet continued. Newt liked her. She was bold, and was never afraid of letting her opinions show.

“Yes,” Ava answered, jaw tightening. The court members glanced at each other warily.

As this sent yet another commotion through the room, Newt turned towards the Queen. "Mother," he began. "Do the people know about this?"

She raised her hand for silence. "No. I have not informed any of the townspeople. I have ordered the advisor to keep quiet until I tell him otherwise. Not that he would tell anyone in the first place."

Newt frowned in thought, his eyebrows creasing together. "I think you should inform the townspeople."

Everyone started to speak at once. "That's preposterous!" Janson exclaimed, his voice the loudest. "It would send the kingdom into panic!"

"Or, it would help us get information," Newt countered. "Coups are usually organized by townspeople, you know." And maybe Newt should have restrained his annoyance for the man and kept his tone a little bit less patronizing, because Janson fumed, opening his mouth to retort, but Ava cut him off with a hand.

"Continue, Newton," she ordered softly. In a different situation, Newt would have laughed at the look on Janson's face.

"It's pretty self explanatory," Newt went on. "It'll get people talking and maybe cause some information to leak. They might even know things already."

"Rumors and gossip are not information," Janson scoffed. "We'd just be running in circles."

Newt shrugged. "Every rumor starts as a truth."

Another buzz filled the room, contemplating.

“What about the picture?”

Everyone turned to Minho in surprise, and if he was embarrassed by his outburst, he didn’t show it. But Newt could see the extra tension in his posture, and the way he held himself taller.

“Know your place, young man!” Janson exclaimed heatedly. “A mere squire does not have a place to speak in the Royal Court!”

“Hey, I’ve been a knight for almost a year now, you piece of--”

“Enough,” Ava cut in, and everyone became silent. She turned her icy blue eyes towards Minho and nodded at him. “Continue.”

For a second, Minho actually looked uncomfortable. He shifted, glancing away before staring back at her evenly. “In the first attack, there was a painting on the wall outside Newt--outside His Highness’ room,” Minho quickly corrected. “A picture of a man’s face with suns for eyes.”

"Yes, we're all aware of that," Janson quipped, and Minho didn't even try to hide the annoyance and disgust on his face. "What's your point?"

"My point is that we could show the picture to the people and offer a reward to anyone who knows something about it," Minho explained. "We could post flyers, or something."

Newt nodded his agreement. "It's a good way to tell the people about the killings, too," he said. He gazed at hands on his lap. "I think they have the right to know what really happened to their King," he stated, hands gripping his thighs. His mother stiffened, and said nothing.

"When would we inform them?" Harriet asked, looking thoughtful.

Newt clasped his hands together. "As soon as possible. We need the information, and we need it now. This is the only way." He saw a few of the Court members nod their agreement.

"Let's vote," Ava ordered. Newt always found this to be redundant, since the Queen could overrule any vote. But then again, an unfair vote was better than no vote at all. "All in favor?" Three-fourths of the Court raised their hands. The Queen nodded. "All against?" The rest of the Court raised their hands, but it was obvious which side had won.

"Very well," Ava agreed. "I will inform the town the day after tomorrow, as well as the advisors in Aitheria."

The meeting continued on, mostly things about politics and money that Newt didn’t really have interest for. It lasted for hours, and by the time it was finished, the sun was already low in the sky, casting the throne room in a goldish light.

After the Queen’s word, everyone started chatting and getting up. There was a hustling and bustling of seats and talk. Servants went in and starting placing the table and chairs away. Newt, as expected, waited with his mother for the room to clear.

“You did well, my son,” Ava said. Newt glanced at her, but she was staring straight ahead, her expression giving nothing away. “Your father would have been proud.”

Newt felt his throat dry and he swallowed. “Thank you, Mother.”

She nodded, and Newt stood, taking it as a dismissal. Minho joined him as he walked out, syncing their steps.

“Bloody hell,” Newt muttered, his whole posture relaxing the moment he was out of the Queen's sight. His back felt stiff from sitting straight for so long.  

“This coup stuff sounds like some serious klunk,” Minho agreed. “And these shanks obviously mean business, not to mention they’re very good at what they’re doing. Sneaking into two different castles with high security--that takes skill.”

Newt sighed. “Or maybe they’ve got some shuck-face traitor with them.”

Minho nodded, and the look on his face told Newt he had already thought of the possibility. “Sir Mark had the others start questioning the servants, already,” he replied. His eyes drooped with exhaustion, and Newt was struck with the realization that Minho had troubles and responsibilities of his own, too. That he was probably as stressed as he was. “Maybe they’ll find something.”

“Maybe,” Newt mumbled. The pair turned towards the hallway that led to the Royal chambers. Newt stopped at Aileen’s, nodding at the guards before quietly opening the door.

Aileen was already asleep on her bed, her blonde curls tousled and her crown haphazardly leaning on one side. A book was still clutched in one of her hands, the pages still open. Newt sighed, gently taking the crown off her head and placing it on her bed stand. He slipped the book out of her hand and made sure to mark her spot before putting it away. Newt felt a tug in his heart when he realized she probably ate dinner alone, today.

“I never spend time with her anymore,” he muttered, staring down at her. She looked a lot younger when she was asleep. More like her actual age.

Minho, who was standing somewhat awkwardly to the side, just shrugged. “It’s not your fault. And she knows that. She’s a smart little bugger.”

“Yeah,” he said, turning away. He followed Minho out the door. “Too bloody smart for her own good, that’s what she is.”

“Yeah,” Minho replied, smirking. “I don’t see how you guys are related at all.”

Newt punched him in the shoulder, and ended up regretting it a little, because Minho was wearing chainmail and it probably hurt Newt more than it did him. _That was stupid,_ he thought, cursing.  _I just proved that shuck-face's point_.

Minho started laughing, and he joined in. It was the first time he had laughed all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope things make a little more sense now?  
> Alby, Minho, and Newt were the first Ivy Trio, okay. Alby was part of the Ivy Trio before it was cool. *hipster Alby* 
> 
> I'll make up for the absence of Thomas in the next chapter :3


	4. We're hollow like the bottles that we drain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas gets a surprise.

_He’s in a maze. Or at least that’s what if feels like._

_Memories of his childhood are displayed against the walls, every moment a precious few seconds long. There’s him and his father, laughing in the Glade as he tells his stories. There’s him and his mother sitting under the willow tree, Newt on his knees, curiously staring at the small bundle in her arms. There’s one of Minho and him playing with sticks that stood for makeshift swords, Alby frowning at them. There’s him and his family at dinner, smiling and talking._

_He turns right, and the memories become more recent, more darker and detailed._

_His father, high at the throne, hair graying and eyes weary. His mother is right next to him, hands delicately folded in her lap. A man with tan skin was in front of them, on his knees. And then a guard blocks Newt’s line of vision, telling him to leave._

_Another memory whips past. He’s with his father again, in the Glade. But they’re not laughing. And his father isn’t telling stories. Instead, he’s closing his eyes, as Newt sits next to him, both of them caught up in their own thoughts. Something is going on, but Newt’s father won’t tell him what._

_The next one is of him walking in the quiet halls of the palace. It’s early in the morning, just before sunrise. He can hear the servants whispering._

_“The poor boy,” he heard one say. “He’s oblivious to everything.”_

_And all of a sudden, everything blurs, the memories seeping into each other, mixing like wet paint. It makes Newt’s head spin and he stumbles, falling back. A flash of metal makes him look up, everything now fading to black._

_The girl is standing in front of him, in her eerie mask. Her sword is unsheathed and resting calmly at her side._

_“Who are you?” He asks._

_The girl doesn’t respond, just lifts her hand to her face to pull her mask off._

_His father’s face stares back at him, blood pouring from his eyes. “I’ll always protect you,” he says, raising his sword. “Always._

_And then he swings the sword down, spilling blood._

Newt woke up with a shout. His voice cracked awkwardly. He couldn’t move and started to thrash, panicking, but then realized that he was just tangled in the bedsheets. He stilled himself, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself down. He felt his body tremble.

Just a dream, he thought, panting. He jumped as the door flew open.

“Your Highness!” A guard cried out, glancing around for any signs of danger. Three more were behind him. “Are you alright?”

“Y-Yes,” Newt answered shakily, then coughed, clearing his throat. Minho must have already gone to sleep. “I just had a bad dream." _Again._ "Sorry to make you worry.”

“No need to apologize,” the guard said gently. “We’re glad you’re alright.”

Newt just nodded, and the guards cleared the room. He sighed, rubbing his hands on his face. There was no way he could fall asleep again, now. He glanced out the window. The moon was still high in the sky, bathing his room in white light. He threw the covers off him and slipped out of bed, walking towards the balcony. He opened the doors with a swoosh, a gentle breeze flowing in. He could see faint lights shining from the town. He glanced behind him, then back to the town. Making a decision, he grabbed the commoners clothes he kept hidden behind his bookshelf and dressed quickly. He tied his hair up into it’s usual bun, and slid on his hat. He grabbed the rope he also kept hidden, and tied it to the balcony railing. The next level was the ballroom, which luckily also had a balcony, and was only a few feet below him. Bracing himself, he threw his good leg over edge, and lowered himself to the next floor as gently as he could, grimacing.

There were many secret passageways in the palace. There was even one in Newt’s room, but it was awfully loud, and caused the wall in his room to split up. So he couldn’t use it to sneak out. The ballroom had tons of them, which Newt supposed was pretty easy considering how big the room was. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, dripping with diamonds and glass. A wide staircase was in the front of the room, for announcing guests. Stained glass windows as tall as the ceiling lined the walls. 

Newt walked over towards the side of the staircase and ran his hands over the stone until he felt the texture change. Grinning, he pushed, revealing the small doorway. He slid in without a second thought, and walked through the dusty passageway. There were all kinds of cobwebs and rodents, but he didn’t really mind. This was his freedom, after all. His escape.

He walked down flights of stairs that seemed endless until finally, he reached a wooden hatch. He pushed against it, coughing a little as debris and dust flew everywhere, and climbed out and into a small cave. He was just outside the palace grounds, in the forest. He walked out and brushed himself off, turning towards the direction of the town.

“I should’ve brought a torch,” Newt mumbled to himself. “Or at least a candle.” Though the moon was high, it didn’t really give off much light. But he trudged on, knowing the way by memory. He snuck past the elegant houses owned by the nobility before arriving onto the road. Soon, he came across the blacksmith shop that marked the entrance of the town.

It was a lot later than Newt had originally thought. Most of the town's lights were off, though a few were dim and flickering. A sinking feeling creeped into his stomach. He probably missed the shift change.

_Oh well,_ he thought. _Nothing I can do now._

The tavern's lights were still loud and bright, but Newt didn't feel like getting a drink at the moment. He passed the dirtied building, his steps sounding strangely loud. Without even realizing, Newt found himself in the entryway of the alley Thomas had shown him the other night. He frowned. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it had only been a day, really. He walked down the alleyway without a second thought, and climbed up the ladder slowly, so it wouldn't creak. When he reached the top, though, the sight made him freeze.

Thomas was laying there, oblivious, his arms crossed behind his head. Though the position was peaceful, his forehead was wrinkled with thought. He was dressed in general commoner clothes, but they were stained with soot, and on his stomach rested leather gloves.

Not wanting to disturb him, Newt started to descend back down, but of course, the ladder chose that time to shucking _squeak_ like a keening mouse, and Thomas looked over to him, sitting up, startled. They made eye contact and Newt stopped in his tracks, heat crawling up his face. He felt like a little boy getting caught stealing from the cookie jar.

Thomas blinked at him. "It's you," he breathed, eyes widening in surprise.

Newt's mind blanked. The boy looked so bewildered and eager, like a puppy. There was no way he could leave. "Do you even bloody sleep?" The prince felt himself blurt out, quite hypocritically, as he climbed onto the roof.

"Do you?" Thomas shot back and Newt didn't answer, just sat down next to him. Thomas was still looking at him like he was some kind of mythical creature.

"You're staring," he stated, and chuckled a little when Thomas flushed, sputtering.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. Though it was dark, Newt could easily see the warmness in his eyes. "It's way past midnight, you know."

"I'm not bloody Cinderella," Newt mumbled. "I'm capable of staying out past midnight, you shank."

"Whatever, Greenie," Thomas shot back, laying back down. "You still haven't answered my question."

"I didn't think you'd be here," Newt replied honestly, laying down with him. "And I didn't want to go to the tavern."

He felt Thomas shift next to him. Tonight was a beautiful night--everything about the sky seemed brighter. The stars shined brilliantly and the moon encased everything in white light.

“My mom used to tell me stories about the constellations,” Thomas said, his voice gentle, like he wanted to preserve the memory. “I barely remember any of them, though.”

Newt glanced at him, wondering what had happened to the mother he spoke so fondly and somberly of. Just the mention of his mother seemed to bring pain into Thomas’ eyes, which were usually so warm and intelligent and bright, that Newt found it hard to look at him. “That one’s Gemini,” he found himself blurting, pointing to the group of stars. He scooted closer to Thomas and traced the lines with his finger, hoping the other boy could see. “The twins, Castor and Pollux. Pollux was immortal, but his brother wasn’t. When Castor died, Pollux begged Jupiter, the god of the sky and lightning, to make them both immortal. So Jupiter put them in the sky.”

Thomas turned to look at him, bewildered. “That’s amazing. How’d you know that?”

“My teacher taught me. Ain’t a big deal or anything,” Newt mumbled, suddenly embarrassed. He glanced away awkwardly. “And I would read stories.”

Thomas smiled wistfully. “I wish I had schooling,” he said. “Or at least a year or two of it. But there was never enough money. I had to work, instead. I did learn math and how to read and write though, but not very well.” Thomas sighed. “I want to learn about everything. But it’s kinda too late now, isn’t it? I’m stuck in this shuck town poor as ever.”

Newt stared at him at him curiously. Thomas was just a boy, like him. A boy who wanted a different life, just like him. A boy who wanted something different, something better for himself. A boy who missed his mother the way Newt missed his father.

Thomas shook his head, as if to shake away his thoughts. "But whatever," he dismissed, giving Newt a sideways grin. "Tell me something about you. If you want," he added quickly, noticing the frown spreading across Newt's face.

Newt hesitated, and was about to refuse, but saw how hopeful Thomas looked and decided against it. "I have a sister," he said tentatively. "A younger one. She's a cheeky little bugger. Annoying sometimes, too." His lips seemed to curve into a smile against his own will.

Thomas laughed. "You seem to care for her a lot."

"I suppose," Newt replied, shrugging. He turned his head to look at the other boy and stared at the dots that lined his face. Constellations of his own.

"It must be nice," Thomas stated. "I was an only child, growing up." He turned to look at him, and Newt realized that they were very close, close enough to brush noses if they leaned in just bit more. "I've got a best friend, though. Teresa. I guess she's the closest thing to a sister I have."

They settled into a comfortable silence. Newt turned away from Thomas' gaze. It was strange, how easy it was to listen and talk to him. "Tell me more about Teresa," Newt said, because he liked listen to his voice.

Thomas' eyes softened in such a way that Newt knew Teresa was probably the most important person in his life. "We've known each other since we were kids. Our parents were close friends, so we've basically been friends the moment we popped out. She was my first kiss." Thomas' nose crinkled up and Newt chuckled. "Which was a big mistake, but I suppose I would rather have her be my first than anyone else."

And they continued to talk, though Thomas did most of the talking. Newt would occasionally say vague answers but Thomas didn't seem to mind. He was fine with just telling Newt about himself. He talked about how had moved to live with Teresa and her family when he was fourteen. How his dream was to leave the Kingdom and see new places. He talked about the shenanigans he did with his friends, some making Newt laugh out loud. He was fascinated, amazed at this boy who could make anyone trust him without a second thought.

“Newt,” he said, when the sky was starting to lighten, the stars already long gone.

“What?” Thomas asked, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Newt,” the prince repeated. “My name’s Newt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of shorter than usual, but oh well. I thought it was a good place to stop :P  
> Thanks to everyone for leaving kudos and sweet comments :) they mean a lot!


	5. And I've been thinking lots about your mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which matters that are important are avoided, pretty much.

"Newt?" Gally snorted. "What kind of shuck name is Newt?"

Thomas scowled. "Shut up, I think it's..." He trailed off. "Okay, it's a little weird."

"He was probably named after the king," Brenda said with a strange tone tinting her voice. Her brown eyes looked clouded. "And the prince, too, I suppose. Prince Newton."

Thomas glanced at her, frowning. The three of them were loitering at a table inside Frypan’s bakery, much to the baker’s annoyance. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she mumbled. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

Thomas shrugged. “I’m on break. Teresa’s dad is with her anyway.”

“You’re always on break,” she stated, sighing.

Gally scoffed. “He’s a lazy ass shank, that’s why.”

“Shut up, Gally,” Thomas retorted. “At least I don’t cut trees for a living.”

The other boy rolled his eyes. “Anyways,” he started, frowning, “I don’t really like this Newt kid. He seems kinda shady, to me.”

“You think everyone’s shady,” Thomas shot back, picking at the wood on the table.

“Are you guys gonna buy somethin’ or what?” Frypan muttered bitterly.

The three ignored him.

“He’s got a point, Thomas,” Brenda cut in. “I mean, you’ve only seen this guy at night. I’ve never even seen him, and nobody’s been talking about the new Greenie. No one seems to know who he even is.”

Thomas crossed his arms. “Well, I’ve actually had a civil conversation with him, and he seems perfectly fine. So what if he’s a little secretive? So is everyone else when they’re a Greenie. I was.”

Gally groaned. “I’m so done with this idiot,” he mumbled, standing up.

“Where are you going?” Thomas asked, gazing up at him awkwardly. Gally was six feet of muscle and hardheadedness.

“Away from you,” he said, walking out the door. “Shucking idiot,” Thomas heard him mumble before the door closed with a mediocre bang.

Thomas blinked. “Well, okay then.”

Brenda sighed. “He’s right, and you know it.”

Thomas didn’t reply, just turned to look at her. Brenda was obviously very pretty, with tan skin and deep, dark eyes. And even though she was a total tomboy, she wore dresses, something Teresa never did. “You look upset,” Thomas stated, studying her face.

She turned away from his gaze, flushing. “I’m not, I’m just--just kind of confused on why you’re so interested this guy.”  

“He’s just...different,” Thomas answered, shrugging. “He went to school and knew all these things.” He felt his lips quirk into a smile as he remembered the way Newt looked as he pointed out the constellations, his eyes gentle and filled with intelligence. How he listened to what he had to say, how he seemed to want to.

Brenda gave him an analyzing look. “Yeah, I guess that’s kind of cool,” she agreed, nodding. “Do you want to explore the market or something? Just the two of us?”

“I should probably get back, actually,” Thomas said, sighing. “Teresa’s probably planning of ways to kill me already. But maybe later,” he added, seeing the way Brenda’s eyes darkened in disappointment.

“Alright,” she said. “See you later.”

Thomas smiled at her, and walked out the door.

♛♛♛

Newt rubbed his eyes, sighing as he sank further into the water. His hair floated around his head like a blonde halo. Steam rose in wisps throughout the room, making the air humid and relaxing. He sighed. Today had been filled with meetings and classes. He hadn’t had the opportunity to spend time with Aileen. Not to mention he spent most of the day thinking about Thomas. He had barely been able to sneak back into the palace this morning, having to bribe a few servants to keep quiet. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Telling Thomas his _real_ name? As if that wasn’t a big enough give away already. Not to mention all the questions Thomas would now ask, because that shucking shank was too curious for his own good.

But Newt had to admit, he enjoyed talking to him. The thought made him cringe. He was in too deep. He couldn’t make friends. That was the deal. He could sneak out, live a little, feel a little more free, but he could never involve himself in other people’s lives. That was the shucking deal.

And yet, when Thomas looked at him with those stupid eyes that were always filled with warmth and something else, something like mystery, asking _"Will you come back tomorrow?"_ , Newt found himself saying yes.

He groaned, rubbing his face with his hands. “I’m a bloody idiot,” he mumbled.

A loud knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts. "C'mon, princess," Alby called. "Get the shuck out. Time for dinner."

Newt sighed, slipping out of the tub. He wrapped himself up in a towel and allowed himself to get dressed by Alby without any protest, making the other boy give him an incredulous look.

“What’s wrong?” Alby asked, frowning.

“Nothin’,” Newt mumbled, “just tired.”

“Want me to have dinner served in your room?”

The prince shook his head. “No, that’s okay. I haven’t seen Aileen at all, today.”

Alby snorted. “That little bugger,” he tsked. “She causes all kinds of problems throughout the day.” He stretched his arms up to place Newt’s crown on his head. Newt always found it amusing that he was taller than the other boy, and never missed an opportunity to tease Alby about it.

As if reading Newt’s mind, the boy scowled. “Shut up, you shank.”

Newt laughed, smirking. “I didn’t say anything.”

Alby punched him in the shoulder and he laughed again. The two walked out of his chambers and headed towards the dining hall. Minho, who was waiting outside the door, joined them. They didn’t really talk much, just enjoyed each other’s presence.

His mother and sister were already seated when Newt arrived in the dining hall. He gave his mother a quick bow before sitting down in his usual spot across Aileen.

“Newt!” Aileen exclaimed, grinning. Servants whizzed by, placing food on the table. “Guess what I did, today.”

“Hey, Little Bugger,” he replied with a sideways smile. “What?”

“I read about the Wars,” she answered happily. “It was very interesting.”

Newt blinked. He flashed back to his studies of the gruesome and disturbingly detailed wars between the kingdoms in his history classes. The only comfort it brought was that when he was king, he wouldn’t be able to mess up that bad. “You what?”

She cocked her head at him. “I learned about the Wars. Didn’t you learn about them?”

“Well, yeah,” Newt started, frowning. “But aren’t you...a little young?”

“Aileen excels at her studies,” Ava said, the first time she had spoken since the start of their meal. “She’s two levels ahead.”

“Oh,” Newt muttered blankly. “How fun.” He took a bite of his food, a fish of some sort, with lettuce and cauliflower neatly arranged around it.  

“Which reminds me,” Ava continued, wiping her hands daintily on her napkin. “Newton, I have a request for you.”

“What is it?” He asked, setting his fork down. He wasn’t very hungry. He took a sip of his drink and realized it was just juice, instead of wine. Probably his mother’s doing.

She cleared her throat. “I’m announcing to the townspeople tomorrow about the Duke and Duchess’ death. As well as--as well as your father’s assassination.”

A tense silence followed the statement. Aileen looked down at her lap while Newt gritted his teeth. “I’m aware,” he said.

“We’ll also be posting flyers of the attackers’ signature,” she announced, “along with an award for people with information.” She paused, her blue eyes calculating.

“Where are you going with this?” Newt asked, feeling slightly impatient. He didn’t need all this pretense.

“I want you to be in charge of the information,” she explained. “You’ll handle all of it. The people will be sent to you for interrogation.”

The prince stared at her, surprised. “Sir Mark would be a better candidate for this job.”

“Sir Mark is busy with other things,” Ava said vaguely. “I want you to do it.”

Newt felt a shocking surge of pride. He never really thought he cared for his mother’s approval. "What did Janson say to this idea?"

Ava frowned. "Janson is letting his prejudices cloud his thoughts. He may be my royal adviser, but I make decisions for myself." She clasped her hands together, an action that surprised him, because he did it all the time. "So, will you do it?"

Newt hesitated, analyzing his mother's face. She looked sincere enough, which was highly unusual. “If that’s what you wish,” he ended up saying, and Ava smiled at him.

When dinner was over, Newt walked with Aileen to her chambers. She seemed overly excited, her steps so bouncy that her curls bobbed up and down like springs. Newt was surprised her crown didn’t fall off.

“What’s bloody gotten into you?” Newt asked, but couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his lips. “You’re buggin’ around like a little bunny.”

She giggled. “You act so different when you're around Mother,” she mused.

“A little,” Newt admitted. “That doesn’t explain why you’re so bloody excited.”

“I’m just happy,” she said, “being happy takes a lot of work, you know. Some people don’t even try, and that’s why they’re upset all the time.”

“How old are you again?” Newt asked, shaking his head in wonder. “Last time I heard, you were still a teeny shank.”

“I still am a teeny shank,” she pointed out. “I’ve just got a bigger brain than most.”

“Too shucking smart for your own good, that’s what you are,” Newt said. The pair slipped into her room, Aileen plopping onto her bed in a manner that was very unprincess like, Newt joining her. They laid side by side, Newt on his stomach, resting on his elbows, while Aileen was on her back.   

“Where’s Minho?” Aileen asked. “I enjoy talking to Minho.”

“Working,” Newt replied, even though he was pretty sure the knight was probably eating another round of food, along with wine. Minho and Aileen together was actually quite a bad combination, because one could only handle so much dry humor at a time.

Aileen sank deeper into her bed, pulling the red covers around herself. “You must be excited about Mother giving you that job.”

Newt gave her a scrutinizing look. “How much do you know about what’s happening, Aileen?”

“Mostly all of it,” she admitted sheepishly. “I overheard Miss Trina and Sir Mark talking about it.”

Newt sighed. “Well, then I suppose I don’t need to hold back or anything do I?” He muttered, mostly to himself. He shifted, turning to lay on his back. “I’m a bit worried,” he admitted. “Kinda a bloody silly thing to be worried about, though.”

“It’s not silly,” Aileen responded reassuredly. “It’s quite reasonable, actually. You won’t let Mother down. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“How’d you know I was worried about that?” Newt asked, somewhat harshly.

Aileen gave him small smile. “I know you.”

Newt turned his head to look at her. Her blue eyes seemed too old and experienced.

“What have you been doing these days, Little Bugger?” Newt asked, smirking. “Playing with your dolls again?”

She sat up abruptly, affronted. “I do not play with dolls!” She retorted heatedly. “I’ve grown out of them!”

And then they were talking normally again, with teasing remarks and laughter, until they became too tired to even speak.

♛♛♛

_There was red everywhere. Red banners and flags hung from windows, Suns printed on them, the sign of the Kingdom. People were dressed in crimson colored clothing. They  waved red handkerchiefs in their hands. “_ Regnum Illi Aestu Adficere vivit _,” they chanted, “The Scorch Kingdom lives!”_

_Newt walked down the streets with his head high. He was donned in red silk lined with golden embroidery. His crown sparkled with rubies. The crowd cheered him on, smiling._

_“Oh, how wonderful,” a voice said, and when Newt turned, he was met with the sight of his sister. But unlike everyone else, Aileen was dressed in a morbid raven colored dress. It made her pale skin look deathly white, and her blue eyes frozen cold._

_“What is?” Newt asked, but it felt like his mouth was moving on it’s own. Apprehension curled in his stomach._

_She turned and smiled at him. “_ Regnum Illi Aestu Adficere vivit _," she chanted, and then an arrow was shot into her head._

_He screamed._

_Blood dripped from her wound, down her temple. She smiled a genuine smile, which made the sight even creepier._

_Suddenly the whole atmosphere changed, the suns disappearing from the flags and turning into the crying man. The red withered away to black. Figures dressed in sleek black clothes dropped from the tops of buildings, their faces covered with masks. Aileen was still smiling at him, oblivious. Her skin was turning tan, her hair darker, as if she was withering to black herself. Her eyes though, remained icy blue. The arrow stuck out of her forehead like a crown._

_"_ Regnum Illi Aestu Adficere moritur _," she announced. "The Scorch Kingdom dies."_

He jerked awake, gasping. His body was trembling, and he clenched the bedsheets in his fists. A drop of liquid stained the fabric and Newt’s hands immediately went to his face. He was crying.

“Newt?” Aileen mumbled, blinking awake. Her blonde hair was a mess. “What’s wrong?”

He glanced at her, filled with both shock and relief. She was fine. It was a dream. _She was fine_. 

“Nothing,” he said, voice catching. He cleared his throat, scanning his surroundings. He must've fallen asleep in her room. “Go back to sleep, Little Bugger.”

She closed her eyes without much protest, too tired to argue. After a few minutes, her breathing evened out, and Newt sighed. He gently slipped out of the covers, and quietly exited the room, rubbing his face. The guards gave him a look, probably noticing his reddened eyes, and let him through. Newt didn’t even care about his image anymore. He just needed to leave.

He practically ran to his room, ignoring the guards in front and quickly closing the door. He took a deep breath before his shoulders started to shake, and then he was crying again.

Bloody hell, he thought, scrubbing at his face. His lip trembled.

He didn’t allow himself to curl up on the floor like he wanted to. Instead, he went straight to the bookshelf and grabbed his clothes. He changed awkwardly, wiping his face every few seconds. Just keep going, he chanted in his mind. Just keep going. A book on his shelf caught his eye. The Constellations, it read. An image of Thomas popped in his head, talking in his gentle voice. My mom used to tell me stories about the constellations.

Newt grabbed it and stuffed it in the waistband of his pants. Then he climbed out of his balcony, not looking back.

He was still crying.

♛♛♛

Newt slipped through the streets, weaving in between clusters of people. Laughter filled the air. The town was more lively tonight, but then again, he had also left the palace a little earlier this time. The book tucked in his pants felt like it was burning his skin. He hurriedly walked to the alleyway and climbed up the ladder. He was surprised (and a little disappointed,)  that the roof was empty, but sat down on the blanket anyway. Thomas was probably still on his way. He closed his eyes, sighing. His eyes felt itchy from crying.

A loud creak on the ladder made him jump. He relaxed when he saw familiar brown eyes.

Thomas grinned at him. His cheeks were stained with soot, and his forehead was sweaty. "Hey," he greeted, sliding down to sit next to him. His smile faded when he eyed Newt’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Newt snapped, feeling only a little bad at the way Thomas flinched back. He knew he probably looked like wreck, but he didn’t want to talk to Thomas--or anyone, really-- about it. “I got you something,” he mumbled, changing the subject. He dug around for the book he brought, awkwardly holding it out to the other boy. Thomas stared at him, indecisive about whether or not he should let the topic go. His brown eyes flickered.

"Newt--"

“You gonna bloody take it or not?” Newt scowled.

Thomas relented, and took the book from his hands gently, as if he was afraid to break it. He opened it and flipped through the pages. Sketches of constellations were on every page, along with their stories. His eyes widened, scanning the pages. "This--this is..."

"You said your mum used to talk about them," Newt blurted, feeling a tinge of anxiety. "About the stories. So I thought you would like to read about them."

Thomas nodded blankly, a strange expression on his face.

“If you don’t like it you can say so, shuck-face,” Newt said, crossing his arms. “No need to be worried about hurting my bloody feelings.”

“No, that’s not it,” Thomas said hurriedly, and Newt felt relief rush through him. “I like it a lot. It’s just…” He trailed off, flushing. “I don’t think I can read it.”

“Oh,” Newt said. He felt like hitting himself. “I can help you.”

The words seemed to have slipped out of his mouth without his own accord, but the eager smile that spread across Thomas’ face made him decide it was worth it.

“Really?” He asked, smiling wider when Newt nodded. “Thanks,” he said genuinely, and the way his eyes glowed made Newt flush.

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled looking away. _Pull yourself together, you sap._ “Just open the shuckin' book.”

Thomas nodded, and scooted closer, so that Newt could get a better view. He stretched out his legs and placed the book between them, resting on both of their thighs. Newt felt heat crawl up his face at the close proximity.

Thomas opened the book to the first page. “Andromeda,” he drawled, sounding each of the letters out. Newt found it strangely endearing. “The prin...princess of--” He frowned, cutting himself off.

“Aethiopia,” Newt said for him. “It’s the name of a place.”

“Aethiopia,” Thomas repeated, nodding. A crinkle formed between his eyebrows. “Where is it?”

“Well, the shanks who made these stories are really old,” the prince explained. “And they had different names for places than we did. So we don’t really know where it exactly is, but it’s in the Desert Country.”

Thomas nodded again, satisfied. He turned back to the book and kept on reading, stopping only a few times. Thomas was actually a pretty decent reader--he stumbled a lot and had mistakes, but he was smart, and he could mostly figure things out on his own. There were a lot of references and allusions that Newt had to educate him on, though, which usually caused Thomas to ask questions, making Newt go deeper into the topic than he had originally planned.  

“This Juno shank is a bitch,” Thomas mumbled, startling Newt into a laugh. The book was already forgotten, still resting on their laps.

“Yeah, she kinda is,” Newt agreed. “But she’s a bloody goddess, so she can do whatever the shuck she wants.”

“That's just how the world works, I suppose," Thomas mused. He leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. "The more power you have, the more freedom you have."

"Yeah," Newt replied, a dry taste in his mouth. He turned to look at the other boy, to see if there was any bitterness in his expression. But Thomas was anything but bitter. He looked calm and serene, his eyes dark but warm and intelligent.

As if sensing Newt was staring, Thomas turned his head, making eye contact. A hint of a smile was on his face.

And Newt was just so lost.

Because Thomas looked...different. He looked attractive. With his mussed hair and stupid soot covered clothes and face and long eyelashes. Suddenly he was aware of all the places him and Thomas were touching, which was a lot, because Thomas was stupidly pressed up against him and their thighs and arms were touching and brushing against each other with every breath they took. He felt heat flush through his cheeks and ears.

"What's wrong?" Thomas asked, a crinkle forming between his eyebrows.

"Nothin'," Newt mumbled, glancing away. He felt his cheeks burn even more. He probably looked like an apple at this point. "I should probably go."

"Oh," Thomas said, and Newt's stomach churned at the disappointment in his tone. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"Tonight would be more accurate," Newt responded, standing up. The sky was starting to lighten. "But yeah, tomorrow, you bloody sap." He headed towards the ladder, but before he could descend, he felt Thomas grab his hand, sending sparks up his arms.

"Thanks, Newt," he said sincerely, his lips twitching into a grin. "For the book."

Newt swallowed thickly. "Yeah," he replied, and then he climbed down the ladder, landing with a thud.

 _Oh shuck me,_ the prince thought, as he slipped through the streets. His heart was beating five hundred times per minute. _Now isn’t the time to have a stupid crush._

Newt still planned on meeting Thomas tomorrow, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this love for Newt giving his sister nicknames, okay. Like, when ever he'd talk about her or to her he'd be like "oh, the little bugger" or "you little bugger" and eventually it would turn into just "Little Bugger".  
> Anywayyyyyyy
> 
> 1) I'm sorry I'm turning Brenda into a pining girl, it's essential to the plot, and not in the way you think. (Well maybe a little.) Though she's not my favorite character, I know she deserves much more than that. So I apologize. 
> 
> 2) I have no idea if the Latin I'm using is anything close to accurate so I'm sorry if you amazingly read/speak latin fluently and are laughing at my intolerance.


	6. Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas feels some AGONNNYYYYY FAR MORE PAINFUL THAN YOURS  
> (Not really but I guess it's kinda angsty?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this story would be like ten chapters tops but boy was I wrong.

Thomas woke up with a groan, sliding out of bed. His limbs felt stiff and his eyelids drooped from exhaustion.

 _But it's worth it,_ he thought, smiling as he eyed the book resting on the window sill. He slid it under his mattress, knowing Teresa's mom, Liz, liked to go through his stuff when she cleaned. (Though there wasn’t really much to clean anyway, just a bed and a small wardrobe.)

A loud knock rattled his door, and Teresa poked her head in, dressed in her usual short sleeved shirt and overalls. "Oh, good," she breathed. "You're awake. Dad just left."

"What's up?"  Thomas asked, as he pulled a shirt over his head. He blindly ran his hands through his hair, not bothering to style it.

“Dad’s gotta get some new tools,” she explained, sighing. “Some of them are rusting. He wants us to get a headstart on things in the shop.”

“Fine by me,” he agreed, leaving the room and walking with Teresa down the stairs. The steps creaked under their weight. He could smell Teresa’s mom cooking eggs, and felt his stomach growl.

The interior of the Agnes’ home wasn’t the best, but it was quite decent. The bottom floor consisted of the living room, with handmade chairs and a fireplace, and a conjoined kitchen. There was a small dining room to the left of it. The top floor was mostly rooms, though the bathroom was on the bottom floor, so that they wouldn’t have to lug hot water up the stairs whenever they wanted to take a bath.

Teresa’s mom was bustling about in the kitchen, her dark hair tied back, and her blue eyes inquisitive. Her apron was loosely wrapped around her neck and waist. Teresa had gotten all her looks from her mother, but she acted more like her dad.

“Morning, Mom,” Teresa greeted, Thomas copying her. “Need any help?”

She waved the two away dismissively. “As if you guys are any help in the kitchen. You two just sit down, now. It’ll be done in a minute.”

They followed without protest, sitting down in the wooden chairs. Teresa jabbed at his side with her elbow playfully. Liz came through the dining room and served each of them a plate of eggs and a slice of toast. The two gobbled it up eagerly and she chuckled.

“Don’t choke,” she teased, “I need Thomas to bring in my hot water every morning.”

“Funny,” Thomas retorted, and she laughed.

“I’ll be at the market,” she said, giving them a wave. “You two have a good day, now.”

They bid her goodbye as she walked out the door. When they finished breakfast, the two headed towards the shop, slipping on their gloves and aprons.

Thomas started to prepare the fire, but he already felt his focus slipping, thoughts drifting to last night. Newt didn’t seem to want to talk about it, which was why Thomas let it go, but something about the way Newt looked with his reddened eyes and blotchy face, like he’d been crying, stuck with him. He didn’t really know Newt at all--he had only met with him twice, three times if you counted that first night. And everything the boy said about himself was vague, as if he was careful not to give too much away. What was it that made Newt feel the need to hide? Why was he crying? Why did no one else in this town know him?

Who was he, really?

Thomas shook his head. What right did he have, to know? He wasn’t even really sure what he was to Newt. A friend? An acquaintance? A stranger? Some guy that’s just fun to talk to when everyone else is asleep? What was Newt to _him?_ He frowned.

 _A friend,_ he thought. _Newt is a friend._

“Thomas?”

He jumped, startled out of his thoughts. “Yeah?”

Teresa raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been staring at that piece of iron for the past few minutes. It’s not going to forge itself, you know.”

“Sorry,” Thomas mumbled, starting to work. “I’m just distracted.”

“Want to talk about it?” She asked, actually placing down her tools, ready to listen.

He shook his head. “Nah, it’s nothing big.”

Teresa nodded, accepting it. The two continued to work, the only sounds being the sizzle of the fire and clanging of metal.

♛♛♛

The herald rode through town, his horse’s hooves clacking noises onto the pavement. Sweat dripped down his temple. It was awfully hot. The paper he had securely fastened onto his belt seemed to burn through his clothes, the words heavy with importance. They seemed to be ringing through his head.

_Citizens of the Scorch, by the order of Her Majesty, I inform you that on September twenty second, the Duke and Duchess of Aitheria were killed. Also on behalf of Her Majesty, I would like to inform you the truth behind the King’s death._

The Queen was a sad one, the herald couldn’t help but think. Still mourning over her husband’s death, yet forced to move on against her will. A queen had a duty to her country, the same way her country had a duty to her.

And her son, oh, her son. Her son was like a painting, a masterpiece, set alight to burn. Beautiful, but slowly crumbling to ashes. The boy’s mind--that was his fire. His demise.

_On the fourteenth of July, the palace was invaded by a group of rebels dressed in black clothing. His Majesty was killed, and His Highness, crippled. They left behind this painting, here. Anyone with any type of information or suspicion must report to the castle gates. There will be a reward of five hundred gems._

But, he was admirable. The herald respected him. He would be a fine king, despite what the nobility said. So the herald would do his duty, even though he had a feeling this would only make His Queen sadder. That it would make the flames on His Prince flare.

He slowed down to a stop in the center of town. Trumpets blared his arrival. "Citizens of the Scorch," he began, opening the scroll containing the words he already had memorized. "By the order of Her Majesty, I inform you that on September twenty second, the Duke and Duchess of Aitheria were killed."

He could already smell the burning.

♛♛♛

Newt woke up with a sour taste to his mouth. The sun flashed into his eyes, making him wince.

"I decided to let you sleep a little more," he heard a familiar voice say. "You've been looking shuck tired, lately."

His eyes opened to the sight of Alby leaning against the wall next to his bed, arms crossed over his chest. "Thanks," he mumbled. "Did I miss breakfast?"

"I'll have food brought here," Alby answered. "After breakfast Minho wants to see you. The queen wants you two shucks to get started on your new project. The announcement was already made earlier this morning."

"Good," Newt replied, stretching. "Anyone come yet?"

"A few buggers did, yeah," Alby answered. "We're makin' them wait, though. Minho says it’s some type of strategy."

Newt rolled his eyes, slipping out of bed and into the bathroom, blinking at himself in the mirror. His reflection stared back at him cruelly. His hair was limp and dirty. His dark eyes were weary, bangs drooping under them. His skin was too pale for his liking.

Some prince you are, he couldn't help but think, turning away. He stepped into the already heated tub and quickly started rinsing. When he finished bathing, he quickly slid on his clothes (ignoring Alby's grumbles) and ate the breakfast that was waiting for him. Alby placed his crown on his head dutifully.

Minho was waiting for him outside the door. "Let's go," he said, nodding his head towards the hallway.

"Where're we going?" Newt asked, but followed anyway, syncing his steps with the other boy.

Minho have him a look. "Where do ya think, slint head? We've gotta few shanks waiting. Hopefully they'll actually be useful." He turned left, into an empty corridor. Newt followed suit. Their steps echoed off the marble floors. Eventually, the pair stopped at a large, black door. Minho turned and smirked at him. “Good knight, bad knight?”

Newt rolled his eyes. “We’re not bloody doing good knight, bad knight, you sap.”

“Why not?” Minho replied. “I make a great bad knight.”

Newt ignored him, straightening his posture as he opened the door. Three men were sitting in front of a large table. One seemed to be playing with something in his hand. They scrambled to stand up when they saw him, bowing with as much grace they could manage. Newt silently applauded them.

“You first,” he said, nodding towards one that had a large, scruffy beard. The man followed him to the adjoining room in the back. In it, was two simple chairs, a small table in the middle. Newt sat down gracefully, clasping his hands together on the table. Minho stood dutifully by his side. The man stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do with himself.

“You can sit, you know,” Newt smirked, and the man nodded obediently, flushing as he sat down in the other chair.

“So,” Newt began, “let’s not waste both of our bloody time.” He leaned forward onto his elbows. “Tell me everything you know.”

♛♛♛

They were just almost done for the night when the doors flew open, making both Teresa and Thomas jump. Gally was standing there, face flushed and panting.

“Geez, Gally,” Teresa exclaimed, annoyance in her voice. “What is it?”

The boy just shook his head, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a flier and the image made Thomas’ heart drop. Teresa covered her mouth with her hands, paling. The flier was still covered in wet paint, the sun-eyed man forever weeping.

“It’s the Flare,” Gally huffed. His hands shook. “They’re here.”

* * *

 

* * *

 

Thomas’ dad left him when he was seven.

He didn’t know why, at first. All he knew was that when he woke up, he was gone and his mom was in pieces. She had put herself together when she saw Thomas poke his head into her room but he could still see the cracks.

Their life became better, though. His mom found a job. Thomas worked for the old fishermen down the road. But then people started murmuring about people disappearing. About a group forming. Every day started to be filled with tension.

_Mom, what’s going on?_

One day, just a few months after his fourteenth birthday, Thomas woke up and found his mom was gone, too. Disappeared with only a five letter note to explain.

_I’m sorry. I love you._

So that was how the Agnes’ found him on their doorstep, pale and shaken, eyes red with tears. _I just didn’t know where to go, she’s gone, I’m sorry._

Teresa’s dad had sat him down, and kneeled in front of him, explaining. His eyes were pale and weary.

_She was taken by the Flare, son._

“Gally,” Thomas said shakily, “what’s going on? Where did you get that?”

“A herald rode into town this morning,” Gally started in rush, words slurring together. “Said some klunk about the Duke and Duchess being assassinated two days ago--and that the King didn’t die from sickness, but that he got shucking killed, too.” He pointed to the flyer. “Said that this was painted on the castle walls. Offered a huge reward for anyone who knew anything about it.”

Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but Teresa cut him off.

“Don’t even think about it, Thomas,” she admonished. “It’s not worth the risk.”

He glared at her. “Teresa, they took my mother away.”

“Do you want them to take you away?” She shot back. “No. We don’t need the money, anyway.”

“This isn’t about the money!” Thomas cried out. “This is about taking them down once and for all!”

_This is about taking my mom back._

Her eyes widened in realization. She always seemed to know what he was thinking. “Oh, Tom,” Teresa murmured, “Tom, please. You know it’s not worth it. She might not even be alive.”

“She’s right,” Gally agreed. “It’s safer to just let it be, man.”

“Well, we’re not going to be safer for much longer anyway,” he shot back lividly. “What do you think they’re here for? A vacation? They already succeeded in killing the Duke and Duchess. And the King. They’re going to take down the monarchy one by one and you two know it.”

“It’s not our shucking problem!” Gally retorted. “Let the Royalties figure it out for themselves. It’s better to not get involved.”

He felt his blood boil. Red flashed through his vision. “How is it not our problem?” Thomas shouted, grabbing the other boy by his collar. “We live here, don’t we? We depend on the Royalties as much as they depend on us! How can you be such a coward?”

“How can you be so selfish?” Gally shot back, pushing him off. “You’re only thinking about your shucking self!”

“Enough!” Teresa cut in, silencing them. “Both of you stop it. I’ll talk about this to my parents. Gally, you leave.”

“Forget it,” Thomas hissed, storming past the doors, ignoring Teresa’s protests. He ran towards a random direction recklessly, his anger dissipating into numbness with each step. Everything he was trying to forget about, everything that he was running away from was coming back at full force. His mom sitting by the window sill, looking out but not really looking at all, twisting her ring in her hands. His mom kissing his cheeks. His mom always trying so hard to make him happy that she forgot to make herself happy. His mom hugging him that last night, holding him like she would never get to again. The painting left behind on his house's door.

He stopped abruptly, dropping to his knees, resting his head in hands. "Goddamnit," he mumbled, gripping his hair.

"Tommy?"

He whipped his head up, eyes widening. Dark brown eyes stared back at him curiously, worriedly. His hair was in its usual bun,  his movements graceful as he crouched down to his level.

"Newt?" Thomas said in shock. He glanced around, realizing that he was in the woods by his house. The woods that were very far away from town. "What are you doing here?"

"Never mind that," Newt brushed off, adjusting his position so that he was sitting next to him. "What's wrong?"

He opened his mouth, ready to tell Newt everything, but stopped himself. Why should he tell Newt anything if he never told him anything back? “Nothing,” he lied, picking at the grass by his feet. “Just got in a little fight with some friends.”

“Oh,” Newt replied. “Well, not much you can do about that,” he continued. “Except say shuckin’ sorry, I guess.”

And just like that, Thomas felt instantly better. He didn’t get it. He barely knew anything about this guy. But he knew he could trust him. Without really meaning to, Thomas rested his head on the other boy’s shoulder.

“What’re you doing?” Newt hissed, but he sounded flustered. “I’m not your bloody pillow, Tommy.”

“I know,” he replied. “Thanks for coming.”

Newt was silent for a while, and for a second Thomas thought he must’ve overstepped a boundary or something, but relaxed when he heard Newt chuckle.

“Yeah, whatever, ya bloody sap.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really happy with this but, here's another chapter! I PROMISED WEEKLY UPDATES SO I WILL DO THEM.  
>  ~~I was going to not post this, though~~


	7. Who shot that arrow down your throat, who kissed the crimson apple?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Newt has feelings and he hates them.

Newt really loved Thomas' voice.

Sure, it was a little stumbly and hesitant as he read through the pages of the book, but it was soft, and expressive. They had been reading through the book each passing night, and Newt could already tell that Thomas was improving.

As of now, Newt was laying on his back, eyes closed as he listened to Thomas read aloud. A few days had passed since the announcement, and he had been busy with interrogations and research. But he and Minho had barely found anything. No one seemed to exactly know who the symbol belonged to.

"What's this word?" Thomas asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. He nudged him with his knee, prompting his eyes open. "It doesn't sound right."

Newt sat up, sighing as he stretched his arms over his head. He leaned over Thomas' shoulder, glancing at the word the boy was pointing at. "Cancer," he answered. "It's one of those where the 'C' sounds like a bloody 'S'."

Thomas shook his head, scowling. "Fucking hate the letter C."

"Quit pouting," Newt replied, a smirk on his lips. He laid back down onto his back, crossing his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. "This chapter's a short one. You should be able to finish it."

"Fine," Thomas complied grumpily, but Newt could tell he was just putting on a show. "Cancer the Crab was sent by Juno, also known as the number one bitch--"

"Tommy," Newt chastised, opening his eyes to give the boy a hard look. But the smile spread across his face anyway.

Thomas laughed, throwing his head back, and Newt was mesmerized by the shape of his jaw and neck. The surge of longing that went through him surprised him. He wanted to punch himself in the face. He didn't need this. Not now. And how would it ever work, anyway? Even if Thomas ever became interested, it wasn't as if Newt could keep lying forever. Soon, Thomas would start asking where he lived, or would want to meet his family, and _this was why he wasn’t supposed to become friends with anyone in the first place._

"Sorry," Thomas said, oblivious to Newt’s inner turmoil. "I don't feel like reading anymore."

Newt rolled his eyes. "Then what do you feel like doing?"

Thomas sighed, flipping the book closed and shifting so he could lay beside him, arms touching. He elbowed him playfully, giving him a smile that sent warmth through Newt’s body. "Nothing."

He snorted. "That's not much help, Tommy."

"I can't focus on anything," Thomas stated, sighing again. "The announcement the herald made is making everyone in the town jumpy. It’s driving me insane."

Newt gave the boy a sideways glance, frowning. “Why?”

“Well,” the brunette began, “Everyone’s just kinda...paranoid. I mean, the Royalties obviously think there’s some kind of cult or something in town, right? That we’re responsible and they want a traitor to tell them the truth?”

“I suppose,” Newt answered, feeling a churning in his stomach.

Thomas turned his head to look at him, his dark eyes churning with something Newt didn’t understand. “I just wish I could help.”

He sounded so genuine that Newt had to turn away. “It’s not your bloody responsibility to save the whole shucking kingdom, Tommy.”

“So?” Thomas shot back. “Doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to try.”

“What can you do?” Newt scoffed. “What can any of us do? Nobody knows a shuck thing about these bastards.”

The other boy shifted uneasily. “Maybe someone does.”

Newt froze for a split second before sitting up in a flash, twisting his body to stare at him. “Do _you_ know something?”

“Of course not,” Thomas brushed off, and Newt’s eyes narrowed. “I’m just sayin’ someone could.”

Newt felt his stomach twist up into knots. He turned his head to watch the ocean change color as the sun started to peak over the horizon. “I should probably go,” he said softly, standing up. Thomas nodded and gave him a small wave before Newt descended down the ladder and started walking back up the street.

♛♛♛

“What about my reward?” The woman exclaimed, her face flushed with anger. “I deserve five hundred gems!”

“The request was for information. Not nonsense,” Newt stated firmly, waving Minho off when the boy started tensing up.  “You haven’t filled out what we have asked of you. Leave.”

Her face contorted with fury. She stood up roughly, knocking the chair over. “Wait until the town hears about how their dear prince is nothin’ but a filthy liar.” She stormed out the room, guards scrambling after her to escort her out.

Newt groaned, massaging his temples. “Bloody hell.”

“You did alright,” Minho reassured gruffly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “The girl was just pissy.”

“It’s been two weeks,” Newt pointed out bitterly, “and we’ve found nothing.”

“Stuff will turn up soon enough,” Minho replied. “Just gotta wait ‘em out.”

“We don’t have time to bloody wait ‘em out,” he shot back angrily, running his hands down his face. “I don’t know what to do.”

Newt winced. Even he could hear the hopelessness in his voice. _Pathetic_. 

Minho studied him for a moment, his dark eyes flickering. They seemed to harden in determination before he spoke. "That's enough for today," he said, lips forming into a smirk. "We haven't sparred in a while, yeah? You're probably all out of shape."

"There's still people left--"

Minho scoffed. "Those shanks are probably just like that woman earlier. If they really have information they'll come back." He seemed to notice the hesitation in Newt's posture and he rolled his eyes. "C'mon," he taunted. "You're not gonna back down from a challenge are ya, Your Highness?"

"Fine," Newt scowled, hiding his smile. "You're on, shuck-face."

The light in Minho's eyes couldn't be anything but mischievous. The two left the small room, dismissing the people waiting and telling them to come back the next day. They complied grumpily, mumbling curses as the guards escorted them out. The two boys then headed out towards the Glade. Newt held in a cheer when they found it was empty. Sometimes Aileen would spend her time here, or his mother when she was on a break.

"You ready?" Minho asked, unsheathing his sword.

Newt took off his crown and placed it on a boulder before unsheathing his own sword. "Ready," he confirmed, sliding into position.

"Alright," Minho replied, "but I got little favor to ask you."

Newt raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

The raven haired boy looked at him straight in the eye. "If I win, you tell me why you ain't sleepin’ at night."

Newt swallowed dryly, heartbeat jumping. He didn’t think it was that obvious, but then again, Minho was always pretty observant. "And if I win?" He asked, crossing his arms.

"Well, we both know how unlikely that is to happen," Minho replied with a smirk, and Newt could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. "But if you win, then I'll stop swapping your wine with juice."

Newt blinked at him. "That was _you?_ "

“Yours truly,” he replied with a wink. “Well, what do you say? Are we on, shuck-face?”

“What if we’re not?” He shot back, secretly clenching one of his fists.

Minho shrugged. “S’not that big of a deal, I guess. Just want to know why you always look shuck tired and sad all the time.”

 _Sad all the time._ He clenched his fist tighter, and raised an eyebrow. “I could just bloody tell ya, you know,” he drawled, hoping he had an air of indifference to him.  

“But you won’t,” Minho replied knowingly, a somber half smile on his lips. “Right?”

Newt didn’t answer. Instead, he lunged at Minho, swinging his sword. He grinned mischievously, swiftly dodging the blow, and soon the two were back into their usual routine, swinging and thrusting swords at each other. Newt wanted to laugh at the sound of clashing metal, at the way he huffed and panted and dodged. It felt like he was letting everything in him out, all the stress and hate. The past few days had only been filled with work and frustration. And Thomas.

Newt didn’t know what to think of Thomas anymore.

Minho swung left, catching him off guard for a few seconds as he recklessly swung his word to block it, wincing as he stumbled to gain balance. _Focus_ , he chastised to himself.

“Watch your stance,” Minho called, seeming to either forget or not care that this was a competition and not a lesson.

Newt huffed and corrected himself, parrying an attack. His ankle was starting to ache but he ignored it. _People always want to save me,_ he couldn’t help but think, as Minho again gave him a few pointers. _I don’t want to be saved._

And that was it, wasn’t it? The real reason behind all of this. Why he had nightmares. Why he felt the need to find information about the picture. Why every night he was able to leave the palace with a fake identity that was starting to feel more like his _real_ identity everyday. Because his father fucking died in front of his eyes and decided to burden him with his last words.

“Newt?”

He blinked, shaking himself out of it. With a sudden burst of clarity he noticed that Minho and him weren’t sparring anymore--that his sword was hanging limply at his side, hands trembling. Minho was staring at him with wide eyes, his brow crinkled with worry.

“Newt--”

The doors of the Glade flew open, stopping both of the boys in their tracks. In the entrance stood Janson, staring at them with disgust. “Her Majesty wants to see you,” he called out, bowing with little to no ounce of respect. “She’s in her office. I recommend you clean up, first.” He scrunched his nose.

Newt straightened, raising his chin proudly. His trembling hands stilled. “Janson,” he began, noticing the way the advisor made sure to not let his feet touch the grass of the Glade. “Why do you suppose my mother hasn’t given you permission to enter her most favorite place?”

Janson clenched his jaw, but said nothing.

“I asked you a question,” Newt said sternly, sheathing his sword gracefully.

“I’m not sure, Your Highness,” Janson muttered, gritting his teeth.

Newt raised an eyebrow. “Only people trusted by the Royal Family can enter,” he stated. “Do you think the Queen trusts you, Janson?”

The man turned his head away angrily, breaking their eye contact. “Her Majesty is waiting in her office,” he said. “Don’t keep her waiting.” He then bowed briskly before walking away.  

Newt relaxed, slumping his shoulders. He ran his hand through his hair, sighing. Minho was staring at him with a strange expression, frowning. The prince raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothin’. You better get going,” he advised, crossing his arms.

“Good that,” Newt agreed, reaching to grab his crown. He placed it on his head gently before striding towards the doors.

“Newt,” Minho called out, and the prince stopped, turning around. Minho shifted under his gaze, eyes flickering down before meeting his. “You watch yourself, alright?”

And that was when it hit Newt like a brick. _He knows something._ “Alright,” Newt promised, nodding. “You too, ya slinthead.”

♛♛♛

 

Ava’s office was just as neat and pristine like the rest of her. Documents were stacked organized and stacked on top of her desk. The bookshelves were dusted and alphabetized. She sat behind her desk with perfect posture, her dress and lips crimson just like the walls. She glanced at Newt when he entered, and motioned for him to sit.

He sat in the chair in front of her somewhat warily. He didn’t know why his mother called to meet him, but he knew it couldn’t be something good.

“Good evening, Newton,” Ava greeted. “How has your investigation been faring?”

“Fine,” he answered stiffly. “Is something wrong, Mother?”

“Oh, no,” she quickly reassured. “There’s just been some news.”

“Another attack?” Newt queried, brow wrinkling.

Ava nodded. “In Daichi. They were after the Baron, but it seems that they failed.”

“They didn’t kill him?” Newt asked, eyes widening. He felt hope crawl into his chest.

The queen shook her head. “And that’s not all. They’ve caught a prisoner.” She raised her hand to stop his barrage of questions. “I would ask for them to send him here, but I don’t want to take the risk. Instead, you’ll travel there to question him.”

He frowned. “Tonight?”

“That would be nice, yes,” Ava answered, folding her hands on her lap.

Newt swallowed dryly. He couldn’t leave. He needed to tell Thomas, first. “Mother, if possible, may I leave tomorrow morning?”

She cocked her head at him. “Why?”

“I--It would just be better, is all,” Newt stammered, heat crawling up his cheeks. _Smooth_ , he thought dryly.

Ava frowned at him. “I suppose that would be fine. I expect you on your way at sunrise. It’s a long trip.”

“Yes, of course,” Newt replied, relieved. “Thank you, Mother.”

She didn’t answer. Taking that as an excuse to leave, Newt stood up, bowing before he left the room.

 

♛♛♛

Newt climbed up the ladder slowly, bracing himself for the look Thomas would give him. When he reached the top, he gave the boy a weak wave and smile.

Thomas studied him, eyes crinkled with worry. “Newt--”

“It’s nothin’,” he replied, climbing onto the roof and plopping down beside the other boy. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes. Images of his latest nightmare were still printed behind his eyelids.

“This is the third time this week,” Thomas pointed out, almost angrily. “It’s obviously not--”

“Just leave it, alright?” Newt snapped. “It’s not important.”

A hurt look passed through Thomas’ face. “You don’t trust me,” he stated bluntly.

Newt gaped at him. At his dark eyes and handsome face.

And then he started to laugh.

“Newt!” Thomas hissed, really angry now. “This isn’t a fucking joke--”

“I trust ya,” Newt cutted in, laughter dying down. “It’s me who I don’t trust.” Because he trusted Thomas _too much_ , he would do anything Thomas told him to do, as long as Thomas wanted him to do it. And he didn’t get it, because this was just a silly crush, because they hadn’t known each other very long, because he never wanted this to happen anyway. Because he trusted Thomas right away, the moment he pulled him through the crowd that first day. Because he knew that eventually all of this would hit him back in the face, and that Thomas deserved much more than a liar.

He gave him an incredulous look. “What are you--”

“I don’t wanna fight with you,” Newt said honestly, folding his leg up so he could rest his arm on his knee. A long silence followed his words.

Thomas sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Me neither,” he admitted, laying down on his back. After a second of hesitation, Newt followed. Thomas nudged him with his elbow, and Newt relaxed, as if that little touch made everything better again.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” Thomas stated. A short chuckle left his lips, like he was in disbelief. “You’re a shucking mess.”

“Thanks,” Newt replied, lips crooking into a half smile. “You up to readin’ tonight?”

“Not really.”

He laughed. “Thought so. You can never bloody focus. Antsy little bugger, you are.”

“Hey, I can’t help it,” Thomas defended, shifting to cross his arms behind his head. “It feels nice to read those stories, though.”

“‘Cause of your mum?” Newt asked, curious. Thomas never talked about his mother much, but Newt knew how much she meant to him.

“Yeah,” he answered. “but because of you too, though.”

Newt felt himself flush. “Well aren’t you sweet,” he mocked, because he was an asshole when it came to things like these.

Thomas didn’t seem to mind. He laughed, somewhat gently punching him in the shoulder. “Shut up.” It was quiet for a moments, the two just enjoying each other’s presence. It was nice. Newt had never attached to someone so quickly before, and he couldn’t tell if that was a good or bad thing.

It was when the sky had turned it’s darkest that Newt finally remembered why he was still here in the first place. He nudged the boy next to him. “Hey, Tommy.”

“Yeah?” He replied, yawning.

Newt raised an eyebrow. “Tired?”

“No way,” Thomas answered, shifting so that he was laying on his side, facing Newt. “What’s up?”

“I’m leavin’ town tomorrow,” Newt stated, turning his head to look at the other boy. He could just barely make out his features. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

Thomas frowned curiously. “Where are you going?”

“Daichi,” he answered, “to visit some shuck relatives.” The lie tasted like vinegar in his mouth.

“Hmm,” Thomas mumbled in response. “I’ll miss you.”

Newt scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re a bloody sap,” he said, crimson spreading across his cheeks. He turned away from his gaze, flustered.

Thomas laughed. “Aw, come on,” he teased. “Aren’t you gonna miss me?”

“Yeah right,” Newt replied, turning onto his side so he could face the other boy better. “I’ll finally be able to get a bloody full night’s sleep.”

“You don’t sleep, shuck-face.”

Newt paused. “Good that.”

They both laughed, Newt feeling this _something_ in his chest.

♛♛♛

“Hey, Newt,” Thomas said, a few hours later.

“Yeah?” He replied, rubbing his eyes. Weariness was starting to kick in, but neither wanted to waste their time together by sleeping.

“I’ve been thinking,” Thomas began. “Haven't you ever wondered why whoever is in charge of this coup thing wants to take down the Kingdom?”

Newt froze, feeling himself choke on his air.

No, he hadn’t thought about that at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter. Sorry. Hope I didn't bore you to death.  
> And sorry for not updating last Sunday! My life's been busy with finals coming up.


	8. Have some composure, where is your posture?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which suspicions are raised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might want to reread chapter four before this because I'm terrible at foreshadowing. (Here's a hint: remember Newt's dream?)

It was sweltering. Thomas could feel sweat dripping down the back of his neck and down his spine. He wiped his forehead, sighing.

"It's scorching outside," Teresa groaned, setting her hammer down. The fire crackled in the background. "Pun intended. And the fact we've got a fire going on in here isn't making anything better."

"You're the one who wanted to work today," Thomas grumbled, taking a long drink from his water canteen. All he wanted to do was take a cold shower.

“We’re already behind on orders,” she pointed out. “Better to get them finished now, then cramping them in by the end of the week.”

He sighed. “I hate it when you’re right.”

Teresa smiled at him, slipping her gloves off her fingers. “I got a question, Tom.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”

She set her blue eyes on him, and Thomas was surprised to see uncertainty. “How well do you know this Newt guy?”

He paused, setting his hammer down. “In what way?”

“What do you mean in what way?” She replied incredulously.

Thomas shifted, staring down at his hands. “I know him well enough,” he began, “I just don’t know much about him.”

She stared at him, icy eyes unblinking. “So what you're saying is that you don’t know him very well at all.”

“No I--” He cut himself abruptly, running his hands through his hair. “I  _do_  know him, okay?”

He knew how Newt played with his hands, he knew the elegant way he moved even with a limp, knew the way his eyes crinkled as he smiled. He knew Newt’s dry sense of humor, had memorized his laugh.

Thomas  _knew_  him. But he didn’t, at the same time.

“Well then, where does he live? Why did he move here? What does he do for a living?” Teresa shot back.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “He doesn’t like talking about himself.”

Teresa sighed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Gally and I have been talking."

"Well, that's not good," Thomas replied dryly.

She glared at him. "Quit joking around, Tom, I'm being serious."

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly. "I just don't understand why Gally's so against me hanging out with Newt."

"You met him at the festival," Teresa stated, glancing down at the floor. "And then two days later, an announcement about a coup is made. About the Flare."

Thomas stared at her, eyes wide. His hands balled into fists. "I can't believe you. I'd expect this from Gally but not _you_."

"Thomas--"

"You think he's part of the Flare? That he's out to get me?" He cut in, voice raising. "You've never even met the guy! You don't know anything about him!"

"Well, news flash, Thomas," she retorted angrily, uncrossing her arms to ball her hands into fists at her sides. "Neither do you!" Her blue eyes looked cold. "This guy becomes friends with you, and then all these weird things start happening. The Flare coming. Attacks happening. Thomas, your whole family was taken! What makes you think they won't come after  _you_?"

Thomas opened his mouth to reply but closed it again when he found that he couldn't, gritting his teeth. He ripped off his gloves before storming out of the doors, breaking off into a sprint.

_All I ever seem to do is run away._

The thought stopped him in his tracks. He panted for breath. He was tired of running away. Of hiding his knowledge of the Flare. He was tired of feeling guilt whenever he walked past fliers with the Flare's symbol on it. He wanted to  _do_ something, damn it. What right did Teresa and Gally have? What right did they have to accuse things, when they didn't even feel the need to step in and help? 

Making a decision, Thomas turned and started to run towards the palace.

♛♛♛

 

“We’re here!” Aileen cheered, glancing out the carriage window. Houses and people passed, looking at the carriage with curiosity.

“I can’t believe Mother actually let you come,” Newt said, shaking his head.

“I told her it was for educational reasons,” she replied matter of factly. “It’s a princess’ job to know her kingdom, right?”

Alby chuckled. He was sitting in the seat across from them, an amused expression on his face. Minho was riding on his own horse outside, along with a few other guards.

“Suppose that’s true,” Alby agreed. “But why the hell did ya want to come in the first place?”

She shrugged. “I just did. It’s not everyday I get to leave the palace.”

“I’m not gonna be able to spend a lot of time with ya,” Newt said, pulling her curls. “So you listen to Alby, you hear? No screwin' around.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Aileen replied, slapping his hands away, turning back to the window. She waved at the passerby, giggling. “You do your work, Newt.”

The Daichi Palace was a large, towering building, ending up in the air with a point. It was covered with vines of ivy. Large, windows could be seen along the walls, along with delicate balconies. Tall archways marked the entrance, decorated with strands of ivy. The Land of the Earth was engraved onto the stone. They passed through without any trouble--they were expected, after all.

Newt felt a nervous anticipation seep through him. Thomas' words last night had been ringing through his ears ever since they left his mouth. Why did this group want to take down the kingdom?

What did his family do?

The carriage pulled to a stop, the driver stepping out and opening the door for them. Newt stepped out gracefully, head held high, Aileen following suit. The path they were on led straight to a tall, elegant marble staircase that ended at the palace’s doors. They were in some type of courtyard, with green grass and rows of colorful flowers arranged neatly along the path. A small, manmade lake could be seen to the far right, and next to it, a towering cherry blossom tree, the pink petals staining the water pink. The place reminded Newt of the Glade. Not because of the looks, but because of the aura it gave-- it was a place where you could relax.

Alby helped the driver collect their things as two people-- a man and a woman -- who Newt assumed were royal advisors, walked towards them. Minho gave Newt a look that said be careful before leaving with the other knights to put the horses in the stalls.

“Your Royal Highnesses,” the man greeted, as both of them bowed. They were dressed in clothes that matched the grass. “We’re honored to have you here with us. If only it was under better circumstances.”

Newt nodded politely. “Thank you for having us.”

“Daichi is a beautiful place,” Aileen marveled, turning her head to examine the area. “Like a fairy tale.”

The woman smiled. “We are the Land of the Earth, after all. My name is Rachel,” she started, before gesturing to the man, “and this is Aris. We’ll be helping you with your stay.”

“Lord Winston would like to see both of you,” Aris continued. “After that, we can get started on the... investigation.”

Newt raised an eyebrow at the man’s hesitation, but nodded. “Lead the way.”

The pair followed as the group went up the staircase. Aileen was craning her head this way and that, absorbing everything around her, her skirt bunched up in her hands so she wouldn’t trip. Newt smiled at the sight. She somehow looked both clumsy and elegant at the same time.

The inside of the Daichi palace was just as luxurious and calming as the outside. Paintings of lakes and gardens lined the white and gold walls. The floors were made with jade. Newt felt out of place in his red and gold outfit, compared to the green.

“It’s amazing,” Aileen whispered next to him.

“It’s different, that’s for sure,” he replied with a half smile.

Rachel glanced back at them, grinning. “Daichi is known for it’s elegance and beauty. But the design is inspired by the Earth itself.”

“Our saying is that Earth is the greatest kingdom of all,” Aris continued. Newt cocked his head slightly. The two seemed so comfortable together.

“How wonderful,” Aileen said, and Newt stifled a laugh. Her nose was scrunched, and he could practically read her thoughts. _How pretentious._

Luckily, Rachel and Aris didn’t seem to see. After a few twists and turns, the group finally arrived at two sets of doors that Newt concluded led to the throne room. Two guards stood with their heads high, but once they caught sight of the two siblings they bowed deeply. Newt nodded at them, and they rose, opening the doors.

Newt supposed it was similar to the one at home. There were sets of pillars on either side, leading to the pair of thrones at the front of the room. Behind the thrones though, was a design of a tall, twisting tree, the leaves lined with gold. A sun was carved in the space just above it. The Baron was sitting at the throne proudly, his wife next to him. “Your Royal Highnesses,” he greeted, standing up to bow. “We are honored.”

“There’s no need for that,” Newt said, nodding politely. “We’re your guests, after all.”

“Thank you for having us, Lord Winston,” Aileen chimed in, smiling.

Winston faltered in his smile. “Ellie,” he began, turning to his wife. “How about you show the Princess around? I’m sure Danny would like to meet her.”

Aileen frowned, but followed the Baroness anyway, glancing back at Newt. _Sorry_ , he mouthed, waving apologetically. He turned back to the baron, cocking his head.

“You’re shielding your family from this,” he stated, not able to hide the slight disapproval in his voice.

Winston sighed. “You misunderstand,” he started, rubbing his temples. “My wife isn’t like your mother. She’s...more delicate. And my son’s much too young.”

“You’re underestimating them,” Newt retorted, shaking his head. “But I’m not here to admonish you. Is the prisoner here?”

Winston nodded, standing up. He gestured for Newt to follow him. “Yes. But we haven’t had much luck with her. She won’t speak to anyone.”

_She?_

Newt felt his bones go cold. Could it be the same girl who had tried to kidnap him months ago? The same girl who destroyed his leg, the same girl who appeared in his nightmares?

His hands balled into fists.

They walked past elegant ballrooms before turning down an empty hallway. Winston nodded towards two knights guarding a door, and they bowed to both of them deeply before opening it, revealing a dark, twisty stairway. “Watch your step,” Winston cautioned, giving a quick glance to the prince’s leg. He gritted his teeth, but nodded anyway, following Winston down the steps, one of the guards from before closely behind him. The stairway was only lit by torchlight, and it was dusty, making Newt want to sneeze.

“You’re keeping the woman who tried to kill you in your own home?” Newt queried, raising an eyebrow.

Winston shrugged. “Easier to keep on eye on.”

“Good that,” the prince mumbled. They continued to walk in silence, the only sounds being the echo of their footsteps. His ankle was beginning to ache, but he ignored it. His heart seemed to beat faster with every step. His hands were sweaty. Would he be able to face her if it really was her? And even if it wasn’t, was he prepared to do this? He felt anxiety and nervousness come across him in waves.

Eventually, they reached the end of the staircase. Newt analyzed the dimlitted dungeon. Only a few of the cells were occupied. One of the prisoners, a man, made eye contact with him. He felt a shiver creep up his spine. The man looked lifeless.

“We keep her separated from the others,” Winston explained, as they walked further down the alley of cells. “Just to be safe.” They came across a tall door that was barred shut. A guard stood in front of it dutifully. Newt could hear his heart beating in his ears. Winston looked at him for a moment, as if to ask, _are you sure?_ before motioning the guards to open the doors.  

The instant Newt saw her, he felt relieved. She was much too wide and curvy to be the woman he had encountered before. Her hair was a dark brown, and so were her eyes. Her face had a childish look to it--all curves, and no hard edges. Her arms were corded with muscle, her skin tanned. She looked to be around Newt’s age, but it was hard to tell with that face. She could’ve been way older.

“Well lookie here,” she sneered, shifting awkwardly in her chair. Her hands were handcuffed behind her, wrapped around the chair’s back. “Even His Royal Highness has come to see me. I feel honored.”

“Don’t use my title if you have no respect for me,” Newt retorted calmly. “Newt’s just fine.”

“And why should I listen to a _child_?” She shot back.

Newt raised an eyebrow. At least now he knew she was older than him by quite a few years. “Does it look like you’re in any position of power not to?”

Her cheeks flushed with anger. Newt turned towards Winston and the guards. “I’ll take it from here.” They seemed hesitant at first, but left, closing the door behind them.

Newt turned to her. “Will you tell me your name?”

“If you think I’m gonna talk to you, of all people,” she spat, “You’re fucking wrong. We should’ve killed you when we had the chance, you piece of royalty trash.”

“Fine then. But save your bloody klunk shit for later,” Newt quipped. “I don’t give a damn about what you think. Just answer my question.” He peered at her. “Why do you hate my family so much?”

Her eyes widened in shock, before she bursted out in laughter. Newt felt his cheeks flush with anger.

“Oh, you poor boy,” she mocked condescendingly. “You poor boy.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” He hissed. “Answer the question!”

“You don’t even know, do you?” She continued, shaking her head. Her smile seemed bitter. “You don’t even fucking know. ‘Cause your goddamn father didn’t let you. That bastard.”

“My father was a great man,” Newt defended, clenching his fists.

She shook her head again. “Was he?” She cocked her head to the side. "How well did you know your father, boy?"

"I'm the one that's asking the bloody questions, not you," the prince snarled. "What are you saying?"

She smirked at him, stretching out her legs, somehow managing to look casual while handcuffed to a chair. "I'm saying that maybe your precious daddy wasn't as perfect as you think." She cocked an eyebrow. "C'mon now. You're a smart boy. I'm sure you must've noticed something."

The man.

The tan skinned man that kneeled in front of his father all those years ago. The servants whispering. The way his father seemed to be deteriorating in front of his eyes, the way his father stayed secretive.

She smiled at him, as if noticing his thoughts. “I can see it now. I get why she didn’t want to kill you. You’re a good boy. But just a boy nonetheless. A scared little boy missing his father.”

Newt straightened, eyes blazing with fury. “You bloody little bitch--”

“Pull up my shirt.”

Newt blinked. “What?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Pull. Up. My. Shirt.”

Newt looked at her incredulously but followed the order anyway, awkwardly reaching for the hem of her shirt. He pulled it up just a few centimeters and felt his mouth go dry. He stumbled back, eyes wide with shock.

Burn marks. Everywhere.

“On my back, too,” she stated, shrugging. “Pretty much everywhere, to be honest. And you wanna know who did this to me, _Your_ _Highness_?”

Newt felt like throwing up.

“Your father did. Your father did this to me and my family.”

“You’re lying,” Newt shot back, hands shaking.

He kept on seeing the man on his knees, in front of his father. The man with tan skin. What was that man doing there in the first place? Why did the guard block his view?

What was his father hiding?

_"The poor boy," he heard the servant say, "he's oblivious to everything."_

She shrugged again. “Maybe I am. But let me give you something to think about.” She leaned in closer, a cruel smirk on her lips. “Who’s the real enemy, here?”

Newt glared at her before storming out of the cell, ignoring the guards’ surprised looks.

 _Me_ , he couldn’t help but think as he strided angrily up the stairs, _the enemy is me._

♛♛♛

 

"Sorry, kid," the guard rasped. His breath smelt of cigars. "The prince ain't here. No interviews today." 

"Where is he? Why is he gone?" Thomas asked, feeling absurdly desperate. When the guard didn't answer, he sighed. "At least tell me when he'll be back." 

"Hard to say," the guard replied. "A few days. Two weeks at most, Daichi's one hell of a trip." His eyes widened, realizing he had slipped. "You didn't hear that, kid."

"Hear what?" Thomas said back, and the guard smiled at him. Thomas thanked him before turning to leave, feeling defeated.  _Daichi, huh_ , he thought. He wondered if Newt was having fun up there. He surely would, if the prince was there. Usually, whenever Royalty visited cities, the townspeople would throw festivals to honor them. 

He turned his head to glance back at the palace. He hoped the prince would be back soon. 

 


	9. Holding hands while the world comes tumbling down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shit happens, man.

_Newt walked through the dim hallways, his feet sliding on the cold floor. He looked down, realizing he wasn’t wearing any shoes. He stared at his hands. They were small and smooth. He was dressed in an old nightgown. He glanced at his reflection in one of the windows and wasn’t too surprised to see his seven year old self staring back at him. He could see his father’s office up ahead, light creeping through the crack underneath the door._

_He pushed open the door, cautiously. “Dad?”_

_His father was at his desk, the candlelight making him look old and weary. He smiled at him. “Newt, it’s late. What are you doing up?”_

_“I couldn’t sleep,” he answered, feeling his lips move on their own. He crawled up into his father’s lap, tracing the wrinkles on his face with his finger. He giggled when his dad scrunched his nose. A sense of deja vu was surrounding him. He felt out of his body and in his body at the same time, with control of his thoughts but not his actions._

_“Newton,” his father said, making Newt freeze in his tracks. His father saying his full name was a rare occurrence, so when he did Newt knew he had to listen._

_“When you’re older,” his father continued, “You’ll be the king. It will be your job to take care of the kingdom.”_

_Newt felt his heart jump, as his father smiled down at him, putting a hand on his head. All of a sudden everything was too real, too similar, because he knew this had happened before, that this was a memory. He already knew the next words that were going to go out of his father’s mouth._

_“I hope you’ll do a better job than me.”_

_“Dad?” Newt felt himself say, sounding confused as he watched his father’s face darken._

_The king shook his head. “It’s nothing. Let’s get you to bed.” He picked him up, and Newt felt himself turn his head to eye what was on his father’s desk._

_Stacks of paper were sprawled all over, but the words were blurred and unreadable. Only three words were clear._

**_burning of Izar._ **

Newt’s eyes snapped open. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. He held up his hands in front of his face, almost shocked to see them back to their normal, seventeen year old size. The dream had felt so real--it was almost as if he had went back into time himself. And those words...

"Newt?"

He jumped, startled, sitting up. The bed sheets rustled. Alby was standing at the doorway, looking curious. "You weren't at dinner," he stated, crossing his arms.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, pulling the bedsheets off as he rose to stand up. "I must've fallen asleep." His hands balled into fists as he remembered the events leading up to him being here.

_Who's the real enemy, here?_

"The festival's about to start," he reminded him. “You should get ready. Can’t let down all those shuck fans of yours.”

Newt rolled his eyes. “What fans?” He scoffed. “Most of those people have never even seen my buggin’ face before.”

“All the more reason to come,” Alby replied. “Aileen’s already dressed, bouncing around her room like the little bugger she is.”

Newt couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head. “I’ll be down there in a sec. Tell Minho to come see me soon, yeah? I got some stuff I need to tell ‘im. And you, too.” His face darkened considerably, causing Alby to frown.

The boy raised an eyebrow. “About the investigation?” Newt nodded, stretching his arms over his head as he began to get ready.

“With all due respect, Your Highness,” Alby began, “I really don’t give two shucks about that.”

“You bloody liar,” Newt shot back, sticking his tongue out at him, not caring how immature it was. “You’re dying to know. You just know you’re not allowed to.” When he didn’t answer, Newt laughed, grabbing the clothes Alby had picked out for him and heading to bathroom to clean up. He quickly washed his face before slipping his clothes on, combing his hair hurriedly. Glancing at his reflection, he patted the top of his head in realization that he wasn’t wearing his crown. “Alby--”

“I got it, you no good for nothin’ shank,” he cut in, a small smirk on his face as he placed the crown on his head. “Now let’s go.”

♛♛♛

“Man,” Minho marvelled. He was riding his horse next to the carriage, clearing through the path of people. “Daichi sure knows how to party.”

Lanterns were strung everywhere, making the streets glow with a golden light. Street performers with lithe bodies were dancing down the roads, along with men blowing fire from their mouths. Musicians were merrily playing along on violins and drums. Everywhere you turned, there was people laughing and smiling with joy.

“Yeah,” Newt breathed, sticking his head out the carriage window, ignoring Alby's protests. For some reason, the atmosphere made him think of Thomas. _He would have loved this_ , he thought, a smile spreading across his face.

A poke at his side made him jump. "Aileen, would you bloody quit it?" He snapped, barely holding in a shriek when she did it again. (He was terribly ticklish there. It was a weakness Aileen liked to exploit daily.) He slapped her hands away, scowling. "Quit being so buggin' annoying."

"It's no fun being in here," Aileen pouted. "When are we going to get out?"

"You want to ride with me, Princess?" Minho asked, leaning down to peek at her through the carriage window.

“Absolutely not,” Newt said while Aileen responded at the same time with a peppy, “Sure!” They glared at each other.

“You’ve never even been on a horse before,” Newt pointed out, “Not to mention there’s a bloody _coup_ going on.”

“Riding a horse can’t possibly be that hard,” she huffed.

"My last statement still stands. There's a coup going on. Just calm your shuckface and wait till we get to the town square."

She stuck her tongue out at him. "You're mean."

"Yeah, Newt," Minho mocked, smirking. "You're such a meanie."

"Shut your hole, Minho," Newt responded tiredly, glaring at Alby when the boy started chuckling. "Isn't it dangerous to ride this close to the carriage?"

"Nah man, Buttercup's way better than that," Minho replied, patting his horse's head gently. Alby snorted, making Minho turn his head to glare at him. "What, shuckface?"

"Nothin'," Alby said, "just finding it funny you named your horse Buttercup, is all."

"I'll have you slint heads know that Buttercup's the best one out there," the knight huffed.

"Yeah, yeah," Newt smiled. "Whatever you say."

Newt had to admit though, Buttercup was a pretty good horse. She was all black except for a diamond of white on her nose. She was a little small, but her body was strong and muscled. She suited Minho well.

Eventually, the group finally arrived at the town square, where an even bigger crowd was forming. People were waving around hankies and flags with the Scorch Kingdom's symbol printed on them, cheering as the carriage pulled in. Newt felt a weird sense of both déjà vu and uneasiness surge through him.

Alby slipped out of the carriage first, turning around and holding out his hand. "You first, Princess."

Aileen blushed, taking Alby's hand as he helped her descend from the carriage. She smiled brightly at the crowd. Newt followed her out, forcing himself to smile, fighting down the anxiety spreading up his chest. Something about the whole scene reminded him of his dreams, and the image of an arrow in Aileen's head made him clench his fists.

_Something feels off._

Minho unsaddled from his horse, and stood next to him, but he looked tense, the easygoing manner from earlier completely gone. Newt felt his heart crawl into his throat.

"What's wrong?" He whispered, glad he wasn't the only one feeling odd.

The knight shook his head. "I'm not sure. Something just doesn't feel right."

"Tell the guards to watch for Aileen," he ordered, and Minho nodded, already moving.

Newt turned toward the crowd, who was bowing at him respectfully. He cleared his throat. "Rise," he said, glad his voice didn't shake. He felt small, smooth fingers slide between his, and he turned his head to look at Aileen in surprise. She seemed to realize something was wrong, too. Newt gave her fingers a squeeze, before letting go.

Lord Winston greeted them, along with his son, Dan, a young boy around Aileen's age, and his wife, Lady Elena. He seemed unaware of the strange atmosphere.The baron turned towards his people, smiling at their cheers. "My people," he started, once the noise died down. "I thank you for standing by me in these troubled times. This should show that Daichi is not a city that can fall so easily."

A few chorused cheers burst out, making the baron grin. "And today, we have wonderful guests here. Let us all give His and Her Royal Highness their due respect."

"People of Daichi," he began, "thank you for welcoming us so kindly into this beautiful city of yours."

The crowd cheered, a few men raising their glasses into the air.

"I know the past few weeks have brought on a lot of worry," the prince said, clearing his throat when his voice shook a little. "But believe me when I say I'm on the case. I'm not going to let this kingdom fall, you hear me?"

Apprehension was rising in his heart by the minute. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and he shivered. He glanced at the building tops warily, and then at Minho. They shared a discreet glance. _Hurry it up._

"Though this is a festival in my and my sister's honor," he continued, forcing his voice to remain calm. He felt terribly exposed, sweat starting to appear on the back of his neck. "It is mostly for you. Enjoy tonight. You guys deserve it--"

He heard a bow string snap, and he jumped as an object whizzed past his ear. People in the audience cried out in shock. He could hear Aileen give out a sharp cry. Lord Winston looked more confused then anything, and his wife looked ashen, lips shaped in the form of an 'O'.

He turned around to see Minho blinking in confusion, a bow and arrow still in his hands. "Sorry, N-- I mean, forgive me, Your Highness," he stumbled. "I thought I saw something."

Newt could hear his heart pounding in his ears. "You're forgiven," he murmured quietly, before turning to the audience. "Forgive us for being a bit paranoid," he brushed off, hoping he sounded casual.  He could feel his hands shaking. "Don't let this ruin your night. I have heard wonderful things about the festivals in Daichi. Let's begin!"

To his relief, the crowd seemed to go with it, cheering loudly before dispersing. Alby turned around to glare at Minho, grabbing two fistfuls of the boy's clothes. "What the hell did you think you were doing, ya slint head?"

Minho easily pushed the boy off him. "Get off my back!" He snapped. "It's my job to protect Newt, not yours!"

"Well I don't know about you, but shooting an arrow at someone's shuckin' head doesn't sound like protecting to me!" The other boy snapped.

Minho straightened his back, obviously offended. "Do I look like some dumb shank? I wouldn't have shot if I wasn't sure I'd hit target, you ass!"

"Your Highness," Lord Winston cut in, "I would like an explanation--"

"Shut your bloody holes!" Newt interrupted angrily, making the baron look at him with wide eyes while Minho and Alby looked down sheepishly. "Your drawing attention." He eyed the onlookers, making them turn away in embarrassment. He turned towards the other guards, nodding at them. "You two stay with Aileen. Don't let her out of your sight," he ordered. "Something is off, tonight. Alby, you follow them. Minho, you're with me. Everyone stay alert."

"Newt?" Aileen questioned, suddenly looking like her age. Her blue eyes glowed with fear.

He stared at her for a second, before kneeling down in front of her, placing a hand on her head. "Everything's fine. You go have fun." He smirked at her, eyeing the baron's son who seemed to be gawking at her. "That boy over there seems to want your attention."

She huffed, blushing. "He's such a pain," she mumbled, but went over to him anyway, disappearing into the crowd, the guards following close behind.

Newt turned toward Winston and his wife. "I would recommend being on your guard tonight, Lord Winston. And you too, Lady Elena. You two are a target the same as I am."

"Don't you think you're being a little paranoid?" The baron asked.

"Probably," he admitted, "but Minho's instincts have never been wrong before."

"He almost shot you in the head," Winston pointed out dryly. Minho, who was just walking up to stand next to Newt, opened his mouth to retort, but closed it again when he saw Newt's glare.

The prince shrugged. "If he thinks he saw something, I'll believe him."

"You have lots of faith in him," Elena spoke, surprising both Newt and Winston. The baroness was known to be one with few words.

Newt smiled at her. "He hasn't let me down, yet. Now, if you'll excuse me." He nodded at them respectfully before leaving, Minho close behind him.

"Wipe that bloody grin off your face," Newt scowled, making the knight laugh.

"Admit it, Newt. You'd die without me," Minho replied smugly.

"Slim it," he shot back. "What did you see?"

"I thought I saw one," Minho answered, finally acting professional. "I felt about ten other buggin' shanks in the area."

"Well, shuck it," Newt replied tiredly, "we can't base everything on your instincts, Minho."

"Just trust me," he responded, squeezing Newt's shoulder reassuringly.

"I already do." A flash of golden brown eyes made him stop in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" Minho asked.

Newt ignored him, whipping his head around. _That looked like..._

He turned and walked towards the direction he thought was the right way, breaking off into a run, ignoring Minho's protests. Another quick glimpse of gold made him turn sharply to the right. "Tom--"

The sight made him freeze.

An old lady smiled at him, the golden eyes long gone. Her hair was tied back with a colorful scarf, her eyes an electric green. She was dressed in a long sleeved, flowy dress. Her wrists jangled with bracelets, and her fingers were long and gnarly, lined with colorful rings.

"My, Your Royal Highness, I'm honored to be in your presence," she greeted, bowing deeply. Newt felt his heart jump at her easy recognition, but then realized he was still wearing his crown on his head.

 _Smart move, ya slint head,_ he chastised himself, _if that was Tommy, you would've ruined everything._

"Would you like to have your fortune told?" She asked, gesturing to the tent behind her.

Newt opened his mouth to reply, but Minho had already caught up with him. "No, he would not," the knight cut in, grasping Newt's arm to lead him away.

The old lady smiled. "I think His Highness is capable of answering for himself, don't you think?"

Newt didn't reply. He somehow felt drawn to this woman, but at the same time, he couldn't help but think something was very, very wrong.

"Newt," Minho whispered, "I don't have a good feeling about this, man. Let's go."

He nodded, letting himself get dragged away, the old lady's eyes entrancing him. They were a good few feet away when the lady called out, "you were drawn here because of the blacksmith, right?"

Newt froze. He whipped his head around, eyes wide. "How did you--"

"He will find out soon," she continued, "everything is going to change."

"Just ignore her, Newt," Minho urged, pulling at his arm again. "She's out of her buggin' mind."

"The Scorch will burn," she said, voice steadily rising in volume. "Your father's sins will be directed towards you. Soon, Izar will have his revenge."

_Izar..._

Newt wrenched out of Minho's grasp. "What do you know about Izar? Who is he?" He demanded angrily.

"The question you should be asking," the old lady began, "is where is it?"

"Enough of your bloody games!" He snapped. "Tell me what Izar is and how you know that name!"

"Newt!" Minho shouted, tackling him to the ground. He felt his breath leave in a whoosh, his crown slipping off his head, landing a few feet away. A piercing scream made him look up, heart quivering.  

The old lady had an arrow stuck in her throat. She choked, blood spewing out of her mouth as she placed her hands around her neck, stumbling to her knees. Her eyes were wide and manic looking, the electric green dulling before she fell down limply.

Newt could hear screams and shouts in the background, could hear Minho's, "are you okay?" But that was all it was--background noise. He numbly felt Minho pull on his arm, but he couldn't move. The old lady's eyes seemed to stare at him, making his hands shake.

"I killed her," he said, and it was barely a whisper. "I killed her, I killed her," he repeated, volume increasing each time.

Large hands were suddenly on his cheeks, making him turn to Minho's sturdy gaze. "I need you to stay with me," the knight ordered, "you got that? Stay the shuck with me. We gotta find Aileen and Alby."

And that snapped Newt out of his daze. He nodded, shakily standing up and following Minho as they broke off into a run. A glint of gold made him notice that Minho had grabbed his crown off the ground, and was clenching it in his fist like a weapon.

The crowd was in chaos, people running and screaming in every direction. Newt could hear children crying. He hoped Aileen was safe somewhere.

Newt stumbled to catch up. He could feel his ankle throb with pain, but he ignored it, weaving between clusters of people.

An arrow whizzed by his head. He didn't dare turn back. Minho suddenly stopped, almost making Newt trip as the knight yanked his arm and pulled him into an alleyway.

"So here's the plan," Minho stated, wiping sweat from his forehead. He barely looked out of breath. "We go to the tunnels that lead to the palace me and my buddies made sure to find when we got here. Hopefully Aileen and Alby are already headin’ there."

Newt blinked in surprise. "How come I didn't know about that?"

Minho had the decency to look sheepish. "Well, you're the one we need to protect."

"All the more reason to shuckin' tell me--"

A figure in black dropped down from the rooftops. Before Newt could even react, Minho whammed the crown he still had clutched in his hands against the person's head, knocking her out instantly. He blinked, glancing back at the crown and the girl with a bewildered look on his face. Newt would've laughed, if it weren't so inappropriate to the situation.

"They seem to be aiming only for you and probably Aileen and the baron, not the townspeople," Minho continued, apparently deciding to move on. "I gotta give them some respect for that."

"Good that," Newt couldn't help but agree. At least the people they were up against rebelled with reverence.

"How's your ankle?"

“Fine,” he quipped, sounding a little but more angry than he intended to.

Minho nodded. “Alright. You ready?”

“As I’ll bloody ever be.”

With a nod, the two started to run. As terrible as it sounded, Newt was secretely glad for the large amount of people. If what Minho said was true, about the rebellers now wanting to hurt the townspeople, the more people surrounding him, the safer he was.

“This way!” Minho called out, turning left. Newt hurried to follow. They ran straight through the town square, veering into a small dark alleyway. Minho immediately dropped to his knees, digging his hands through the ground. “Shucking hell, where the--” he cut himself off, grabbing onto something that looked similar to a rope, pulling hard, lifting a circular piece of iron and revealing a hole with a narrow ladder. Newt gritted his teeth, sliding in and ignoring the twinge of pain in his ankle as he descended down. Minho followed him, a loud thud vibrating through Newt’s skull as he dropped the iron piece.

“This almost seems too bloody easy,” Newt mumbled as he reached the bottom of the ladder. The tunnel wasn’t much--it was dusty and lit by torch light, reminding Newt of the Scorch Kingdom’s own secret tunnels.

Minho plopped down next to him. “Yeah, I think so too. Something’s not right. We better hurry.”

The two broke off into a run again. Newt felt his heart twist at the thought of Aileen. _She’s with Alby,_ he told himself, _she’s fine._

Eventually, the pair made it to the castle, climbing up the tunnel stairs. Newt felt his heart pound as Minho quickly opened the doors.

The castle was dead silent. Their footsteps echoed as they walked through the empty hallways.

“Something’s wrong,” Newt whispered, feeling dread seep into his bones. Minho shushed him.

“Hear that?” He whispered, pointer finger in the air.

Newt frowned, straining his ears to listen. After a few long moments he heard it, a soft keening sound, like someone was crying. Goosebumps crawled up his arms. Minho and him shared a quick glance before heading toward the direction of the sound.

“It’s from the throne room,” Minho murmured, quickening his pace. They approached the two large double doors, hesitating. The guards usually placed there were gone. Minho quickly unsheathed his sword, Newt doing the same. They each placed one hand on a door, facing each other.

“Three,” Minho mouthed silently, “two…”

Newt’s grip on his sword tightened.

“One.”

They slammed open the doors, immediately sliding into an attacking position.

“Newt!” Aileen cried, almost making the prince double over with relief. His sword clattered to the ground, forgotten, as she ran over to him, wrapping their arms around each other into a hug.

“Thank goodness,” he breathed, holding her tighter.

“Newt.”

He looked up, making eye contact with Alby, who had Dan in his arms. Brow wrinkling, he finally glanced around, taking in his surroundings. He felt his heart drop.

Covering the back wall of the throne room was a large, white flag.The crying sun-eyed man sneered at him cruelly. On the throne steps, two guards lay lifeless in their own pool of blood. On the two center thrones sat the baron and baroness. Lady Elena’s dress was stained crimson red, her throat slit. A sword was sticking out of Lord Winston’s chest, his eyes dulled and lifeless. Tied to the butt end of the sword was a note. Newt slipped out of Aileen’s grasp, walking slowly towards the corpses. He reached out to grab the slip of paper, hands quivering.

_Soon._

His body started to tremble. His eyes scanned the word over and over again. His thoughts flashed back to the old lady’s words.

_Soon, Izar will have his revenge._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I'm late!  
> I was having trouble getting this chapter out into words...lots of editing took place and ugh IT'S SO LONG IT'S LIKE SEVEN PAGES ON GOOGLE DOCS KILL ME.  
> I also apologize for the lack of newtmas. They'll be more next chapter.


	10. You're the finest thing that I've done, the hurricane I'll never outrun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I could wait around for the dust to still, but I don't believe that it ever will.
> 
> or: Newtmas reunion yayaya

“So the prisoner escaped?” Newt queried, clasping his hands together and resting his elbows on the table. Him, Minho, and the two advisors from before, Rachel and Aris, were gathered around a large, rectangular table in one of the castle’s meeting rooms. So far, they were the only advisors here that Newt trusted. The prince had some suspicions against a few of the members here. They seemed too eager to take charge.

Rachel nodded. “It seems that that was their main priority. They had ambushed the prison long before they dared approach Your Highness or the baron and baroness.”

“No way,” Minho cut in stiffly. “No way was that whole shuckin’ disgusting display a last minute thing.”

“How did they get in?” Newt asked.

Aris bit his lip. “We’re still a bit fuzzy on the details. Most of the soldiers that would know are already dead. A maid had told us she saw them storm through the east hallway, so we’re assuming they got in from the east entrance.”

Minho nodded. “That door’s also closer to the prison, right? So it makes sense.”

“They must really want to stay secretive,” Newt stated, frowning. “I don’t buggin’ get it. Wouldn’t they want to be known?”

“What do you mean?” Rachel asked.

“I’d think that these people would want to be as public as possible,” the prince explained. “That they would want to get their message across to the people.”

“To get more people on their side,” Minho concluded for him, and he nodded.

“Right now, the majority of the kingdom is against them,” Newt stated. “Why would they want that?”

An uneasy silence followed, the advisors looking down at their laps.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Aris cut in. “Right now the main priority is calming the chaos in Daichi. I don’t mean to offend, Your Highness, but surely this conversation can wait until we solve our more demanding problems.”

Newt clenched his jaw, but nodded. “Understood. You and Rachel will be in charge?”

The two nodded. “If that’s alright, Your Highness. Mister Dan is still too young,” Rachel answered.

“I agree to it,” Newt complied. “You two seem to be the most trustworthy. How many civilian deaths were there?”

“Gratefully, a relatively small amount,” Rachel answered. “So far, twenty eight people have been reported dead.”

The old woman’s face flashed back at him, and Newt’s hands balled into fists. “And the damage costs?”

Aris sighed. “A lot of things had been damaged in the chaos. We’ll definitely need a few hundred thousand jewels. The villagers can help us rebuild.”

“Alright. Keep in touch with us if anything new comes up.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Aris obeyed.

“And keep an eye out on those other advisors. They’ll be eager to take control,” Newt advised.

“Will do, Your Highness.”

The prince stood up from his chair, turning to gaze out the window. He could see Aileen and Dan in the courtyard, but they didn’t seem to be doing much. Both sat side by side under the cherry blossom trees, looking like statues. “My sister and I will be leaving today. I have one final order for you before we go.”

“What is it?” Rachel asked.

“Take good care of Dan.”

The two seemed surprised at his request, but nodded anyway. “We’ll treat him like our own, Your Highness.”

♛♛♛

Thomas stared at the words on the page. The letters seemed to be blurring together. He sighed, running his hands through his hair, plopping back first onto his bed. He had wanted to read through at least two of the stories from the book Newt gave to him on his own, but his mind was scattered. And it just wasn’t the same without him, as embarrassing that sounded.

He scoffed. What was he? A child? With renewed determination, he sat up, forcing himself to absorb the words he was reading.

_Eridanus, the River._

He frowned at the strange name (what was it with these guys and complicated spelling?) but continued reading anyway.

_Phaeton was the son of Apollo and Clymene. In order to get answers about his parentage, he travels to the Sun Palace. While Apollo tells him that he is indeed his father, Phaeton remains unconvinced. He tells his father to prove it to him by letting him drive his father’s chariot and winged horses. Apollo begs him to choose something else, but Phaeton refuses. The Sun God reluctantly allows his request. He teaches Phaeton how to ride the chariot, and gives him special ointment to protect his skin from the heat._

_Phaeton takes flight eagerly, but he quickly realizes he’s not able to control the chariot. He flies too close to the heavens, setting them on fire, causing him to plunge down towards the earth. Mountains and forests are set ablaze. Rivers dry up, and Neptune is confined to the seas. The earth cries out to Jupiter for help._

_After seeing the situation, Jupiter then throws a thunderbolt at Phaeton, shooting him through the sky like a falling star. Eventually, his body falls to the ground, where the Eridanus river catches him, bathing his burned and scarred body._

Thomas blinked. He skipped over quite a few words, but was able to get the gist of it. One thing he knew for sure was that the story definitely did not have a happy ending.

 _How strange that’d be,_ he thought, _to set the heavens set on fire._

“Are you _reading_?”

Thomas jumped, hastily shoving the book under his pillow. “Could you knock?” He snapped, glaring at the girl.

Teresa didn’t even attempt to look sorry. She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she leaned against the door frame. “Where’d you get that book? And since when have you’ve been able to read?”

“I’ve always been able to read,” Thomas huffed. “And it’s none of your business, anyway.”

“Fine, be that way.”

“Whaddaya want?” He asked, sliding out of his bed to stretch his arms over his head. His relationship with Teresa had gotten a little rocky after their fight. He could tell that she was over it, and he was too, but they were both too stubborn to actually apologize.

“I was thinking,” she started, “that maybe you should invite that Newt kid over here for dinner, or something.”

He froze, an eyebrow raised in surprise and slight suspicion. “Why, so you can interrogate him?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Yeah, no thanks,” Thomas replied dryly, grabbing his satchel.

"Where are you going?" Teresa asked, frowning as he brushed past her. "It's late."

"Out," he answered vaguely. "I won't be gone long." He quietly descended down the stairs, Teresa following him. Liz was sitting in the living room, patching up a shirt. She gave Thomas a stern look, but allowed him to leave without much comment. He had a feeling she knew something was going on, but if it bothered her, she definitely didn't show it.

"Are you going to meet up with him?" Teresa asked at the doorway, watching Thomas leave.

He turned around and blinked at her, realizing that he didn't tell Teresa that Newt had left town. "Yeah. I'll be back soon."

And with that, he turned around and started to walk down the front steps of their rickety front porch. He turned left, towards the town, but once he saw Teresa close the front door he quickly backtracked the other way, towards the palace. Wanting to avoid the main path, he slid past the towering oak trees, into the woods.

It was a long, tiring walk, especially because of the darkness. Thomas could barely see more than a few feet in front of him, the moon being his only guide. His footsteps sounded abnormally loud--the only other sounds were the rustling of leaves and the hushed calls of animals. He was constantly ducking and dodging tree branches, his arms becoming scratched from the bark.

Eventually, the path started to clear, and Thomas could spot a gentle glow of a lantern in the distance. Soon he stepped out into a small clearing, where a man stood in front of a small cave, hood covering his face.

“Well?” Thomas asked in greeting, as he moved closer.

“Look, kid,” the man huffed. Thomas could see the glint of his armor underneath his cloak, and smell the stink of cigars from his breath. “I’m not sure how long I can do this. People are gettin’ suspicious.”

“Do you want the money or not?” He shot back, digging into his satchel to grab the small bag of jewels.

The guard narrowed his eyes at him. “Why do you want to know so much about the prince, anyway?”

“I have my reasons, and you have yours,” he answered smoothly, shaking the bag of coins for emphasis. “Is he back from Daichi? How are the investigations for the coup?”

“The prince is on his way back,” the man answered. “Should be back later tonight. Apparently there was an attack on Daichi when he was there. The prisoner he was supposed to be interrogating escaped. Also, both the Baron and Baroness were killed.”

Thomas felt his mouth go dry. “An attack...on Daichi.”

The guard eyed him curiously. “Yeah. They tried to get the prince during the festival.”

“What about the townspeople?” Thomas asked hurriedly. “Are they alright?”

“They’re alright, from what I’ve heard. Only a few deaths from the confusion. Seems like they were more focused on the prince.”

Thomas could barely hear him. The words _“a few deaths”_  infested his mind, making his heart beat faster in panic.

Was Newt alright? What if he was hurt? He had a limp, it would have been easy for him to get caught up in the confusion. What if--

“Hey,” the guard said cautiously. “You alright, kid?”

“I’m--I’m fine. Thanks,” he said, handing over the small sack of jewels. See you next week.”

The guard just shrugged, taking the sack and Thomas quickly walked away.

 _He’s fine,_ he thought to himself, _he’s fine._

But the horrible thing was, Thomas couldn’t help but think, as he trudged through the woods, was that he had no way of knowing Newt was fine unless he showed up and told him himself. He didn’t know his relatives or friends, or where he lived. There was no one who he could ask. He could spend his whole life wondering. What would he do then?

“When did he become so important to me?” He mumbled to himself, almost in surprise.

♛♛♛  
  


Newt’s eyes snapped open. Sweat lined his body, and he was panting, but the images that had haunted him in his sleep seemed to almost completely fade. He glanced out the window, seeing the moon light up the sky. The trip back from Daichi had taken them longer than expected--though Newt had tried to keep it secret, news of the attack on Daichi spread, and the roads were crowded. It took them four days to get the city, and almost six days to return.

“You alright?”

He turned to see Alby sitting across from him, hands crossed over his chest. The carriage jostled him around slightly as the wheels went over a small bump. Aileen was curled up into the seat next to him, sound asleep, her head resting on the opposite wall.

“Yeah,” Newt croaked, clearing his throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Been one heck of day, eh?” Alby muttered, shaking his head. “These crazy shanks must really want your head on a pike.”

“Thanks,” Newt replied dryly, but the corners of his lips twitched into a smile against his own will. “I feel bad for the young bloke, losing his parents like this.” He thought about the quiet Baroness, speaking those few words to him for the first time. Of Lord Winston’s not completely obvious kindness. He thought about the way Dan clutched onto Alby like he was his lifeline, how Aileen and him sat like statues in the courtyard. The whole family deserved far better.

“He’ll be alright,” Alby reassured. “He’s a tough one.”

The prince nodded, mirroring Alby as he crossed his arms. “I wish I could’ve bloody done something,” he confessed, glaring at his feet.

“What could you have done?” The other boy retorted. “The whole thing was unexpected. Quit blamin’ yourself for something you couldn’t even control.”

“I could’ve--I should’ve--I don’t know!” Newt snapped. “I just hate that now that boy’s all shuckin’ alone. You never knew your parents,” he grumbled angrily, “you don’t know what it’s like to lose ’em.”

He immediately regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Alby’s whole face darkens, and Newt can see the muscles in his arms tighten as he clenches his fists.

“Sorry,” he muttered, looking out the window. “That was too far.”

“No, you’re right,” Alby replied, making Newt glance at him. “I never knew my parents. But believe me when I say I know what it’s like to shuckin’ lose someone ya care about.”

He looked away, back out the window. The landscape was starting to look more familiar--they were almost home. “I know.”

“And there’s something you can do, anyway,” a soft voice said, making both the boys jump. Aileen smiled at them. She was still in the same position, but her eyes were wide and alert. “You can figure out this mess and give them justice. You found a clue from the prisoner, didn’t you? Now’s the time to take action.”

The two boys looked at each other, Alby grinning and shaking his head.

“Yeah,” Newt replied, ruffling her hair. “I guess it is.”

They sat in silence as the carriage trudged on, the horse’s hooves clacking on the path. Since Daichi was in the west, they wouldn’t be passing the town, instead just cutting right in front of it, which was a good thing, he supposed. They didn’t want to attract unnecessary attention. He could see the faint light in the distance. He wondered if Thomas was still awake. He probably was--it wasn’t that late, and they had definitely stayed up later than this before. He wanted to see him, and kind of hated himself for it. There were bigger things to worry about then when he would be able to see the guy he had a hopeless crush on again.

And yet, he was still making plans to see him.

He looked out the window to see the carriage pass through the castle gates. He could hear Minho talk to the guards on duty, their voices hushed.

Minho stuck his head in the window. His eyes dropped from weariness. “We’re home,” he said with a sly grin. “Apparently Her Majesty wants to see both of you. Wants to check if you’re really alive or not, I guess. Adam says they just got the message yesterday.”

“Really?” he marveled, surprised. “Took the bloody herald that long?”

Minho shrugged. “Traffic, I s’pose.”

The carriage rolled to a stop, and he groaned as he clumsily got off, stretching his arms over his head. Aileen seemed so worn out she looked like she could collapse any minute. He gave her a sympathetic smile.

To his dislike, Janson was waiting for them at the palace steps. “Welcome back, Your Highnesses,” he greeted. “It’s nice to see you two alive and well.”

“I bet,” Newt mumbled dryly. “Where’s my mother?”

“In her office. I’ll escort you two to her. Alone,” he added, eyeing Minho and Alby with a distaste. “You two have better things to do, correct?”

Minho’s jaw tightened, eyes blazing, but Alby pulled him away, the grip on the other boy’s arm as hard as steel.  

Newt sighed, giving his sister his arm to latch on to as the two ascended up the stairs, following Janson through the large double doors that marked the entrance to the palace. The guards bowed at them before moving to open the heavy doors, and Newt nodded at them as they entered. Not much was happening in the palace. Servants bowed to the two as they passed by, and Newt suspected most were going home for the night.

They walked up to his mother’s office without much talk. Janson left them alone as Newt and Aileen headed into her office, not bothering to knock.

“We’re home, Mother,” Aileen greeted warmly, walking up to the queen and wrapping her arms around her.

The queen looked tired. Her lips were pale, the lipstick washed off, but her dress was as red as ever. Her eyes seemed to drop from weariness, making the wrinkles in her face stand out. Newt felt shocked to see relief cross into her eyes.

Ava smiled at her, and gave Newt a nod. “I’m glad. I was worried when we got the message.” She looked over at him. “I expect a full report tomorrow. I know you two must be tired. I just wanted to see you before I went to bed for the night.”

Newt nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned around to leave, but not before he glanced back to see Aileen and his mother smiling at each other. He felt a pang.

He hurried towards his room. Hopefully Minho and Alby were already in their rooms--they were the only ones he was worried about. He nodded at the guards outside his room door before slipping inside, already heading to the place where he kept his commoner’s clothes hidden. He quickly changed, not bothering to put his hair up, but slipping on his cap. He quietly went out to the balcony, climbing over the rail and dropping down into the one below it, wincing as pain flared up his ankle.

He walked through the ballroom, but then froze when he saw the secret entrance door open. He quickly slid behind a window curtain, narrowing his eyes as a hooded figure stepped out. He could hear jewels jingle in the small pouch he had in his hand. The man put it in his pocket, making his cloak move enough for Newt to catch the armor under it. _He’s a guard?_

The man seemed to glance his way, and he quickly pulled his head back. He held his breath as the man walked closer. He couldn't let anyone see him dressed like this. 

But the man passed by him easily, with no hesitation to his steps. Newt held back a sigh of relief.

 _I better tell Minho about this tomorrow,_ he thought to himself, as he slipped out from behind the curtain and headed towards the secret door. He felt an uneasy feeling in his stomach. How did that man know about the door? What was he doing? He remembered how Minho and Sir Mark suspected an insider let in the intruders all those nights ago. Could it have been this man that did it?

He frowned as he descended down the long stairs in the tunnel. The old lady from before flashed in his mind, making him clench his fists. He needed to talk to Sir Mark about Izar, too.

 _Izar_ , Newt pondered as he continued through the tunnel. His nose itched from the dust. _The man. The woman’s burn marks. And...Dad’s supposedly evil doings._

There was so much to think about.

Eventually he made it towards the end of the tunnel, climbing up the old ladder and out into the cave. He practically ran through the forest, feeling a guilty sense of relief. Now he could be just Newt, instead of Prince Newton. Now he could be free of responsibility.

Not looking where he was going, he felt himself ram into something, hearing an _oomph!_ He tumbled to the ground, groaning as he sat up, rubbing his head.

“Newt?”

He blinked, peering into the darkness. “Tommy?”

“What are you doing here?” Thomas exclaimed. He was sitting about a foot away from him, and Newt could just see his eyes glint in the moonlight.

“What are _you_ doing here?” He shot back. Then, to his surprise, he felt strong arms wrap around his waist as Thomas pulled him into a tight hug, burying his face into his shoulder.

“T--Thomas,” he stuttered, feeling his skin heat up as he tentatively wrapped his arms around the other boy. “What’re you doing?” He could feel the other boy’s breath on his neck, and it made him feel dizzy.

As if remembering himself, Thomas quickly pulled back, making Newt’s heart drop in disappointment. “S--Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was just worried. I’m glad you're okay.”

Newt blinked at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Thomas gave him an incredulous look. “Why wouldn’t you be? Daichi was attacked! I heard people died!”

“You heard about that already?” He asked in surprise. His mother only got the message yesterday, after all. _She probably announced it,_ he concluded. “News sure travels bloody fast.”

Thomas seemed to falter for a second, making him raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, I suppose it does,” the boy muttered. He glanced around. “Let’s get outta these dumb woods,” Thomas said, standing up.

Newt complied, rising to his feet. Thomas grabbed his hand, pulling him along, making his face flush. “You don’t need to bloody hold my hand like you’re my shuckin’ mother.” He made no movement to draw away, though. Thomas’ hands were warm and rough, covered with calluses.

“This kinda reminds me of the first time we met,” Thomas replied, and he could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“Yeah?” He said back, a small smile gracing his lips as he remembered the way Thomas pulled him through the crowd. Had they really known each other only a few months? “Seems like a buggin’ long time ago.”

Thomas grinned back at him. Eventually the two exited the woods, walking past the blacksmith shop and into town. Thomas seemed to be in a hurry. He practically dragged Newt through town, making strangers give them weird looks, but he didn’t really mind. They slipped into the alley, Thomas climbing up the ladder first while Newt followed.

Everything was exactly the same as they left it. The blanket was still there, along with the two pillows. Food wrappers and empty bottles were strewn everywhere from previous nights.

“We should clean up this place sometime,” he murmured, and Thomas laughed. The boy plopped down clumsily on the blanket, laying down with his arms behind his head, raising his eyebrows at him. Newt rolled his eyes but followed.

“Really, though,” he continued, “we’re using some poor guy’s roof and making a bloody mess outta it.”

“We’ll clean it up tomorrow, then,” Thomas reassured. “I’ll bring a trash bin.” He turned his head to look at him, teasingly pulling a strand of his hair. “You left your hair down.”

He glanced away awkwardly. “Yeah. Didn’t feel like puttin’ it up.”

“Looks nice,” Thomas complimented, and he felt his cheeks burn.

“Whatever,” he mumbled. “Did ya read while I was gone?”

Now it was Thomas’ turn to be embarrassed. “I read a chapter or two.”

“That’s it?”

“It’s different without you!” Thomas blurted, making Newt laugh and him turn pink.

“Can’t read without your daddy reading with you?” He teased.

Thomas paused. “That was kinda kinky.”

“Shut up,” Newt huffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re disgusting.” Thomas grinned at him.

“Was it scary? When they attacked?” He asked.

Newt hesitated. “A little,” he admitted. “Everyone was just kinda confused, I think. Made everything harder. But they didn’t really seem to be after us. They just wanted the prince.”

Thomas was silent for a moment. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Thomas was silent again before he spoke. “I missed you.”

Newt closed his eyes, letting the words sink into him. He felt his heart melt. “Yeah. Me too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. Next chapter will be filled with Newtmas I promise.  
> Sorry I haven't updated in a while! I kinda had a writers block. Life's just too much sometimes.  
> I think Thomas is _so ___out of character in this chapter and I apologize. Ugh.


	11. My love has concrete feet, my love's an iron ball, wrapped around your ankles, over the waterfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt and Thomas' friends finally interact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the dead!  
> Sorry I haven't updated, ugh. I was having issues. This chapter's pretty long though, (10 pages on google docs) so I hope it sort of makes up for it...

“So what is Daichi like?” Thomas questioned, crossing his arms behind his head.

Newt frowned. “It’s...green. Very green. They have green everywhere.”

The other boy laughed. “Well, we’ve got lots of red here, too.”

“Yeah but like, even their bloody clothes were all green,” Newt continued. “And they had lots of trees and flowers everywhere.”

“Sounds kinda pretty.”

“I suppose,” he agreed, “there’s no ocean, though.”

His words caused both of them to glance at the deep blue that roared onto the shores. A sliver of light could be seen in the distance, making the water glow.

“Don’t go yet,” Thomas said, as if he was reading Newt’s mind. “You’ve still got time, right?”

Newt watched as the sky began to lighten up with reddish hues. "Sorry, Thomas,” he mumbled, “but I gotta go.”

"Not yet," Thomas pleaded, almost childishly. "You just got back today."

"It's already morning," Newt replied firmly, standing up. He shaked off the hand that Thomas placed on his arm.

“You can come over to my house.”

"You know I can’t do that. My mother will worry." Not to mention he promised to meet with his mother today. He really, really needed to get back and Thomas' clinginess wasn't making it any easier. (Though it did secretly please him, just a little bit.)

But his body ached and he was mentally exhausted. He had never really gotten a chance to rest after the attack on Daichi. And his head was already spinning with so many different things--Izar, the man leaving the secret door last night, the wellbeing of the damn kingdom. He really didn’t need this from Thomas right now. And even though Thomas didn’t know anything about what he was going through, he could at least take a hint.

"But she doesn't worry about you leaving your house in the middle of the night?" Thomas shot back, in a teasing tone, but Newt could hear the underlying accusations.

"She doesn't know," he simply answered.

"Really," Thomas muttered, crossing his arms. "I'm not that surprised."

Newt paused. "What's that supposed to mean?

“Forget it,” Thomas grumbled, shaking his head. “Forget it. I’m just a little tired.”

“No, tell me what you mean,” the prince shot back, a small slice of venom in his tone.

The other boy was silent for a minute before he spoke. “What were you doing in the woods?”

Newt froze.

“The only thing in the direction you were coming from was the castle. What the hell were you doing in the middle of the woods?”

“I…” he trailed off. He could feel his heart beat speed up with anxiety. What could he say? What other lie could he tell? He was so sick of lying. He was tired of being two people at once. Why did he ever think this was a good idea?

And yet, Newt scrambled for any type of excuse, for any type of lie or defense, because he would rather lie than lose Thomas. The thought scared him. Not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true.

“I--Well, what were you doing in the woods?” Newt shot back, and it was only then did he notice the suspiciousness. What was Thomas doing in the woods? Heading back from the same way he did, even!

Thomas faltered, before his glare became cold. “You don’t get to do that! You’ve been keeping secrets for me ever since we met!"

“Why is this suddenly becoming a problem now?” He snapped, throwing his hands up in anger. “Where is all this coming from?”

“It has _always_ been a problem!” Thomas yelled, making them both flinch. It was silent for a moment, and Newt swore he could hear the echoes of the other boy’s voice. “At first, I just thought it was because you were just naturally secretive, that you didn’t really like to talk about yourself,” Thomas continued, lowering his voice. “But this is ridiculous. I don’t even know where you live. I don’t know who your parents are. I don’t know your last name. I don’t know why we can only meet at night, I don’t even get why we do this.”

“Well if it bothers you so much, why do you stay?” Newt spat out. “Why do you keep coming?”

The question seemed to throw the blacksmith completely off guard. “Because--Because I…” He sputtered, gold eyes flashing.

 _Because you what?_ Newt wanted to shout. Suddenly it felt as if the world was millions of times smaller, that he was compressed and losing air. _Does he....does he feel--_

“I don’t know why,” Thomas answered, gaze dropping to the ground. “I don’t know why.”

The world expanded again. Newt could feel himself breathe easier, but his heart sank in disappointment. He laughed, and it tasted like oversteeped tea. “Well, tell me when you find out,” he replied, turning away to head down the ladder. “Or tell me when you stop buggin’ caring. ‘Cause whether you like or not, I’m still gonna keep secrets.”

“Newt,” Thomas said, the ordering tone in his voice making him stop. “Are you part of the--Are you part of the rebellion?”

He stared at him, blinking with wide eyes. “What?”

“What are you hiding from me?” The boy continued, “Why do you keep playing these games--”

“You think I’m a _rebel_?” Newt cut in harshly, storming over to him, suddenly glad of the few inches he had on Thomas. “You think I’m one of _them_?” He continued, fisting his hands in the other boys shirt.

“What the hell am I supposed to think?” Thomas shot back. “A mysterious guy who only pops up at night? Who’s secretive about every little fucking thing he does?”

Thomas thought he was a rebel.

Thomas, thought he, _the prince of the Scorch_ , was a rebel.

He couldn’t help it. He started to laugh.

“Newt,” Thomas seethed, “what the fuck--”

“Whatever,” he interrupted, letting go of the other boy. “Whatever. If you think I’m some kind of bloody rebel, then whatever. I’ll leave. You won’t ever have to see me again.”

“Newt--”

“Goodbye, Tommy,” Newt said, before sliding down the ladder, not even caring about the ache in his foot.

♛♛♛

Ava’s hair was tied up in an elegant bun, her crown adorned with rubies. Her lips were painted perfectly red, and the charcoal around her eyes made her blue gaze even more icy. Her dress was simple, but fashionable, with long sleeves and velvet fabric.

When Newt was younger, the maids and servants used to tell him how beautiful his mother was. How when she and his father were younger, they would often sneak out to the gardens and light up the castle with their laughter.

Now, the only thing that came to mind when Newt looked at his mother was that she looked tired.

“Good morning, Mother,” Newt greeted, bowing his head.

“There’s no need to be so formal when it’s just us, Newton,” Ava chastised, not unkindly. “But good morning to you, too. How did you sleep?”

Just the thought of last night made Newt grit his teeth. His throat felt dry. “I slept fine,” he answered, and it felt like he was squeezing the words out his throat. “But enough of that. We’ve got a lot of things to talk about, right?”

“Yes,” the queen agreed, folding her hands and placing them on her lap. "I'd like to know everything that happened in Daichi."

"Actually, mother," Newt cut in, "I have a question I'd like to ask you first."

"What is it?" Ava questioned, lips turning down slightly from confusion.

"What do you know about Izar?"

To his surprise, his mother paled, blue eyes widening. He had never seen his mother lose composure like this--it almost frightened him.

But as soon as her vulnerability showed, it disappeared.“Who told you that word?” She hissed, back straightening, eyes now freezing over to a cold glare.

“So you’ve heard about it, then?” He pressed, standing his ground.

“Newton. How did you hear about this word?” Ava commanded, voice steeled with superiority. Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Tell me. Now.”

Her anger only fueled Newt’s hidden suspicions. The fact that she knew what he was talking about, that there was an actual chance of treachery in his father’s legacy, made his hands shake. The prisoner girl flashed in his mind, the burns scarring her skin. The old lady with the electric eyes, her last words being a warning. Newt...Newt had _adored_ his father. He looked up to him. And now, to have his image of him being torn--it made him angry. It made his eyes burn from holding back tears. “Only if you tell me what you know,” he ground out, never breaking eye contact. “What did Dad do?”

Ava pursed her lips. Newt could see that she was weighing her options by the way her eyes flickered.

“I don’t know.”

Newt froze. “What?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated, looking down to her lap.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” He raged, voice rising.

“I’ve told you what I know,” she replied calmly, “Now you tell me.”

Newt clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to scream. “Fine,” he spat. “I only had the chance to interrogate the buggin’ prisoner once. She didn’t give me any solid information, but she hinted at Dad doing...immoral things. She showed me burn marks that were supposedly the result of something Dad did.” The prince paused, biting the inside of his cheek. He wasn’t sure if he should reveal the dreams he’d been having, and how realistic they’d been.

As if sensing Newt’s intentions to lie, the Queen’s eyes flashed. “Tell me everything, Newton.”

“I had a dream,” he continued, after a few seconds. "Or maybe it was a memory. About me and Dad...I was younger, though. A few good years younger. We were in his office, and that was when I saw the words, ‘burning of Izar’, on a piece of paper.” He ran his hands down his face tiredly. “And then later, at the festival, before the shucking rebels attacked, I met this old woman. She was a fortune teller, and she--she knew. she said some stuff about Izar getting it’s revenge..that Izar was a place, not a person.”

“Do you know where she is now?”

He felt his body tense. “Dead,” he answered blankly.

Ava frowned, the crinkle in her eyebrows showing her worry. “I see,” she mused, before standing up. “That’ll be all, Newton. Thank you.”

“What?” Newt blinked, before standing up himself. “Mother--”

“Newton,” Ava interjected, voice cutting him like a knife. “Leave. Please.”

Newt fumed, feeling heat crawl up his cheeks in an angered blush. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to bow, before storming out of the room.   

♛♛♛

“She just made you leave like that?” Minho asked incredulously, crossing his arms. He was leaning on the far side of Newt’s room, scarily close to the bookshelf Newt stuffed his commoner clothes behind. He barely gave it a glance, though, much to the prince’s relief. “Damn. That shank’s definitely hiding something.”

Newt paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck her,” he spat, “she’s treating me like a buggin’ child, withholding information when she gave me the bloody responsibility to investigate in the first place!”

“You think she lied, when she said she didn’t know anything?”

“I know she did,” he ranted, throwing his hands up in the air. “Why else would she freak out like that? This is bloody ridiculous!” He paused in his pacing, a thought suddenly popping into his head. “I should go to Sir Mark.”

“He ain’t here,” the knight responded.

Newt whipped his head around to face him. “What?”

Minho shrugged. “He’s not here. I asked around to try to find out where he went, but all I got was that your mom sent him somewhere on a private mission.”

There was a calculating gaze in the knight’s eyes that made Newt wary. “What is it?”

“You look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

“You look stressed.”

“Well of course I am!” Newt scoffed, before pacing again. “I have the safety of the kingdom on my bloody shoulders! And yet, my mom’s still acting like a stuck up prick. People have died for my sake. And--” _And Tommy’s never gonna want to talk to me again._

But it was better that way, right? Because no matter how unfair it was to Thomas, Newt knew he could never end with the lies and the hiding. It was impossible. It was irresponsible. What he had with Thomas was a mistake. He should have never talked to him in the first place, should have never snuck out. So why not end it now?

Because whenever Newt spent time with Thomas, he would feel sparks with every brush of a touch. Because whenever he talked to him, Newt felt more like himself. Not the prince, just a teenage boy.

Because if he never saw Thomas again, he would miss him.

“And what?” Minho pried, eyes still hiding something. It made an irrational surge of anger bubble in him. Was no one going to tell him the truth, today?

“Nothing,” he hissed, glancing out the window. The sun was tinting the sky pink. “Don’t you have to get ready for dinner?”

“What about you?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Minho stared at him for a few seconds, before sighing, nodding his head. “Whatever you say," he relented, heading out the door. He paused in the doorway though, looking back at him. "I'll see what I can find out about Izar. Probably won't be much, but it'll be something.

Newt nodded. "Thanks, Minho."

♛♛♛

 

This was probably one of the worst ideas he had ever had.

To be perfectly honest, he was surprised he had gotten this far. Honestly, sneaking through the palace when the sun was still up? Everyone was probably busy with dinner, he supposed, but still, he didn’t think it’d be this easy. And what if Minho, or worse, Alby, came into his room before bed only to find out he was gone? He had told the guards to not let anybody in, but…

Newt felt strangely vulnerable, walking around the streets without the comfort of darkness. Sure, the sun would set soon, but it still felt weird. Almost as if he was walking in a completely different town. He had always arrived at the prime hours of partying and alcohol. But this early, there were more children scurrying around, and less men stumbling around drunk. There were more families walking together, more couples holding hands, rather than trying to suck each other’s face off. It was a completely different atmosphere.

It felt...nice. Calming. Newt could feel the tension inside of him loosening.

He still had no idea what he was doing here, though.

Actually, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he had no idea what to do here. What had he done before meeting Thomas? Wander around aimlessly? Then again, he always did drop by the tavern to get a drink…

Too busy contemplating on whether or not it was worth it to get a drink, Newt turned only to slam into someone else.

“Sorry--” He froze, staring at the tall boy in front of him. He easily remembered him--it was hard to forget about drunk asssholes, after all.

_You’ve got to be bloody kidding me._

Gally frowned down at him, eyes narrowing. “It’s you--”

“Gally!” A voice Newt knew all too well broke in, cutting the boy off. “Honestly, quit running off--”

Newt wanted to run. But his feet stayed glued to their spots, body paralyzed by the gold in Thomas’ eyes.

“Newt,” Thomas squeaked out, obviously surprised. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “You’re...early.”

He almost wanted to laugh, because really? That’s all Thomas had to say? A million things were running through Newt’s mind--how he was sorry, how he didn’t really mean it when he said they should stop being friends, that he hated that he had to keep lying, that he was the prince, that he sometimes stared at his mouth and wondered how his lips would taste. And yet, the words that tumbled out of his mouth were, “I didn’t come here for you.”

In a way, he supposed it was true. He really only came here for himself, for a chance to cool off. He never thought Thomas would be here, which was a pretty stupid mistake. It was where he lived after all.

The light in Thomas' darkened. "Oh,” was all he said, and it made Newt want to bury himself in a whole.

“Well,” Gally drawled, interrupting the moment and making Newt scowl, “Ain’t he a buggin’ charmer. I can totally get what you see in him, Thomas.”

Just as Newt was about to retort, two girls swooped in, one easily wrapping an arm around Thomas’ shoulders. For a moment Newt was taken back. Her eyes reminded him of sea storms. Her ebony hair just made them stand out more. She was really beautiful. And the way she was dressed, in coal smudged overalls, just like Thomas--Newt knew right away that this was Teresa.

He could tell by the way she looked at him that she had already figured out who he was, too. His heart surged with happiness at the thought of Thomas talking about him. It made him feel ridiculous.

Unwrapping herself from Thomas, she held out her hand, and when she smiled at him, it was kind. “I’m Teresa,” she greeted, shaking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Newt,” he greeted back, nodding at her. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Her smile widened. “This is Brenda,” she introduced, gesturing to the girl next to her.

It was only then, did he turn to give the other girl a glance. He almost blanched. She had tan skin, both her eyes and hair dark. She was pretty, too, but it wasn’t the way she looked that shocked him. It was the way her eyes seemed to narrow, how they seemed to slice through him. For some reason, they were filled with what Newt could only describe as hate. But as soon as he saw it, it disappeared, transforming into indifference.   
“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Her fingers were ice cold. They made his skin tingle, made his whole body shiver.

“Yeah,” he mumbled back. “You too.”

“Why don’t you eat dinner with us?” Teresa asked, ignoring Gally’s protests and Brenda’s not so secretive glare. “Thomas has talked a lot about you. It’d be nice to get to know you personally.”

He almost wanted to laugh. It was pretty obvious he wasn’t wanted--he didn’t get what the deal was with Brenda, but he wasn’t _stupid_. He glanced at Thomas for support, but his gaze was focused onto the ground. Newt held in a scowl.

“Fine,” he answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I am kind of hungry.”

 

♛♛♛

 

He wasn’t sure whether or not it was a chance of fate, but either way, Newt still ended up at the place he originally wanted to go; the tavern. The first order that left his lips was a large glass of ale.

The atmosphere could best be described as tense. Thomas had barely said a word to him the entire night. In fact, he barely said a word to anyone--just picked at his food, and took long sips from his drink.

As for the rest of them, Teresa was really the only one that acted civil. Newt swore Gally just existed to irritate him, and it really only took him a few moments to figure out the big fat crush Brenda had on Thomas, which irritated him on a whole other level. And no, it wasn’t because he also liked Thomas, too. It was because it was so fucking obvious, and the idiot didn’t even seem to realize it.

And of course the two were sitting next to each other, with Newt stuck on the end of the table all by himself, since Gally and Teresa were sitting across from the pair. Brenda always seemed to be touching him, with either a reassuring pat on the shoulder, or a nudge with her knee. It pissed him off. More than it should.

To make things even more worse, most of the dinner was eaten in silence. No one really seemed to know what to say. Newt kept his gaze on the table ninety percent of the time.

“So, Newt,”  Teresa began, making him snap his head up. “What do you do for a living?”

Newt forced himself not to panic. He dug his fingernails into his palms. “I work for my mom,” he answered softly, ignoring the way Thomas’ head snapped up.

“Oh really?” Brenda cut in, a hidden venom in her tone. “What do you do for her?”

“Just things like buggin’ errands. For her business,” Newt replied, secretly surprised at how easily the lie slipped off his tongue. Then again, it was sort of true in the first place. _I'm getting better at twisting the truth._

“What's her business?" Teresa prodded.

He hesitated, hating the way Thomas seemed to be drinking every word. He was surprised that he didn't seem angry that he was easily giving his friends answers about himself. Answers Thomas had been searching for for months. "We...help people manage their own businesses. Like, their money and klunk like that. We help them stay up on their feet."

Brenda scoffed, making him narrow his eyes at her. Honestly, what was her problem?

"So, like a bank, then?" Teresa continued, and Newt nodded.

"I guess, yeah. We help with other things besides money, though."  

Teresa bobbed her head, brow crinkling thoughtfully. “That’s interesting.”

Silence filled the table again. Newt felt himself frown when Thomas ordered another drink. How many had that been already? And he knew that Thomas wasn’t a really big drinker…

“Maybe you should stop,” Brenda told Thomas kindly, apparently already on the same wavelength as Newt. He felt himself scowl.

“I’m fine,” Thomas reassured, albeit pathetically, before downing his cup. Everyone seemed to watch in helpless silence as he ordered another glass.

“I thought you didn’t like to drink,” Newt blurted, ignoring the way his face heated as everyone turned to stare at him.

The boy ignored him, taking another long gulp before slamming the glass down on the table. “Yeah, well I thought you trusted me,” he shot back, words stumbling over each other.

“I never said I _didn’t_ ,” the prince defended, crossing his arms.

“Well, you never said you did, either.”

Newt gritted his teeth. “You were the one who started accusing me of being a _rebel_ \--”

“He what?” Gally bursted out, the same time Brenda sputtered, “You what?” Teresa stayed silent, frowning, stormy eyes analyzing.

“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty!” Thomas yelled, glaring at Gally. “You’re the one who came up with the idea in the first place!”

“That doesn’t mean you fucking accuse him of being one, you dumb ass shank--”

“Enough,” Teresa cut in, halting the conversation. “Gally, let’s go. You too, Brenda.”

She straightened, affronted. “But--”

“Let’s _go_ , Brenda.”

The dark haired girl seemed to seethe in her seat before complying, standing up noisily as her chair screeched against the floor.

Newt watched the trio leave, feeling a mixture of anxiety and relief. He stole a quick glance at Thomas, only to see him gazing down at his hands.

He had nice hands, Newt thought distractedly, dragging his gaze over Thomas’ callused skin. They were worn and rough, but smooth and comfortable. Like worn leather. And he had nice forearms, too, probably from banging a hammer all buggin’ day…

“Why’d you come here?” Thomas asked, shaking him out of his (embarrassing) thoughts.

“Huh?” He muttered dumbly, blinking at him.

Thomas gave him a strange look. “Why’d you come here? You said you didn’t come here for me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I can’t do something for myself, for once?”

“You make it seem like I force you to hang out with me,” Thomas slurred, the alcohol finally kicking in.

“You kind of did, the first time we met.”

“That’s different!” He protested. “I had always wanted to talk to you before that, anyway.”

“Why?” Newt choked out, feeling his mouth go dry.

“I don’t know. You were interesting,” he answered, before laughing bitterly. “I thought you were cute. And mysterious. I wanted to know more about you. Look how well that’s gone.”

“Tommy--”

“I was so angry,” Thomas babbled, “it was so unfair. You were acting like it was all my fault, like you didn’t do anything wrong, geez, you’re such a fucking asshole…”

He scowled. “Yeah, and you’re bloody drunk.”

“I know,” Thomas continued, “but this all happened because you kept hiding things from me.”

Newt bit his lip. “Maybe one day I’ll tell you everything.”

“Yeah?”

He paused for minute, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. “Yeah,” he promised, nodding his head. “Yeah. I will.” He chuckled, standing up. “But first I gotta get you home.”

“I can make it home fine,” Thomas insisted, but still allowed Newt to pull him along. He sighed, leaning his head on Newt’s shoulder, making the boy stiffen.

“Yeah, sure you can,” he mumbled, fighting the burn in his cheeks. He shuffled Thomas out the door, blinking in surprise at how dark it was. How long had they been in that dingy building? The streets were practically bare. “That’s why you’re gripping onto me like I’m your shucking mother.”

Thomas didn’t say anything, just buried his head deeper into his neck, and holy fuck, was he _smelling_ him?

“Whoa there,” Newt sputtered, pushing Thomas back at arm's length, quickling grabbing on to both of his shoulders when the boy staggered. “If you remember any of this tomorrow, you’re gonna be real shuckin’ embarrassed.”

The boy hummed in agreement. “Yeah. And I’m still mad at you, too.”

“Yeah?” Newt replied, feeling his heart sink a little. But hey, it was progress, he supposed.

“Mmhm,” Thomas nodded, before raising his arms to wrap around Newt’s neck.

“Tommy--”

And then suddenly it happened.

Thomas’ lips on his.

He might’ve been the prince of the Scorch, but Thomas’ lips burned more than anything else he had ever felt. He felt his blood thrum with a growing warmth, like coal in a fire. He felt his arms stop pushing and instead, start pulling. Pulling Thomas closer. He felt his eyes flutter shut. It was kind of a messy exchange between mouths, Thomas leading the way. He remembered how he had said his first kiss had been with Teresa.

This was Newt’s first kiss.

And Thomas was drunk.

His eyes snapped open, roughly pushing the other boy away. He felt his face flush at the way Thomas looked at him, eyes dazed, yet focused with desire.

Newt bit his lip, ignoring the way Thomas’ eyes followed the action.

And then he punched him in the face.

Thomas cried out, staggering back, holding his cheek. He stared at him, eyes wide.

“You--You bloody asshole,” Newt stammered, clearing his throat. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re _drunk_.”

“Oh,” was all Thomas said. “Let’s continue tomorrow, then.”

He gritted his teeth, hating the way his cheeks flared with heat. “Shut the fuck up. I’m taking you home, and you’re gonna give me my personal space, you got that?”

Thomas blinked at him, before nodding. “Alright.”

 **  
**  
Hours later, sprawled in the comfort of his own bed, Newt could still feel the burn from Thomas’ lips.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Thomas is an affectionate drunk, okay? Like he can hold a conversation, but he'll do little things like hold your hand, or play with your hair, or lean on your shoulder...yeah. That's my headcanon. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your patience. It means so much.


	12. My name's blurry face and I care what you think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the secret comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS STILL SUNDAY WHERE I AM. YAS.

“Newt?”

He blinked, glancing down at the small figure next to him. “Huh?”

Aileen laughed. “You’re up in the clouds, today,” she teased. “I asked if you needed some lip balm.”

“Why on earth would I need lip balm?” He asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

“You keep touching your lips.”

He felt heat crawl up his neck and through his cheeks. Last night seemed to have engulfed his mind completely, taking up all his thoughts. He wasn’t sure if he should’ve been angry at Thomas or not, for stealing his first kiss in the worst way possible, or if he should’ve been mad at himself, for taking advantage of Thomas when he wasn’t in a sober state. But either way, he still felt...nice. His lips still burned. Just thinking about what happened made a smile creep across his face. He knew it was silly, knew that there was a high chance that Thomas didn’t even remember, or worse, thought it was a mistake. He knew that Thomas probably didn’t see him in that way. But, he supposed, that if a drunken kiss from Thomas was all he was going to get, then a drunken kiss was what he was going to take. It was pathetic, but he really couldn’t care less.

“I’m just thinking about things,” he mumbled, as the pair turned a corner, almost bumping straight into Alby and Minho.

“Your Highness,” Alby sputtered, startled. “There you are, shuckface. What happened last night? You weren’t at dinner, and your slint head guards wouldn’t even let me into your room.”

“I just needed some time alone,”  Newt brushed off, crossing his arms. "Is something wrong?"

Alby and Minho turned to look at each other before back at Newt.

“Wrong?” Alby questioned, before shaking his head. “No. Nothing’s wrong. Except fot the fact you’re late to the interviews, klunk for brains.”

He blinked. “We’re still doing those?”

“Yeah, we are,” Alby said, scoffing. “Geez. What’s with you?”

“I just thought that since the people knew about Daichi there wouldn’t really be that much of a need--”

“What?” Minho cut in. “What are you talkin’ about? No one in the town knows about Daichi. Or at least, they shouldn’t. Unless there’s some rumors going around already.”

“Wasn’t there an announcement?” Newt asked, brows scrunching together.

Minho shook his head, giving him a strange look. “Not yet.”

“Mother was planning on doing it tomorrow,” Aileen piped in, making the three boys look at her. “Didn’t she say anything to you?”

“Mother and I aren’t in the best of terms right now,” the prince mumbled. “Well, alright then. Let’s go, Minho.” He patted Aileen’s back in a means of goodbye before turning around, Minho following him, soon syncing his steps with his.

 _So if there wasn’t an announcement made on Daichi,_ Newt thought to himself with a frown, as they passed through the corridors. _How the hell did Thomas find out?_

He supposed that rumors could have been flying around. People probably had lots of connections (whether it’d be relatives of friends, or even acquaintances,) in Daichi after all. It was one of the closest cities to the capitol, so it made sense.

But then why would he lie and say there was an announcement, then?

And on that night, Newt had stumbled into him in the woods by his house. Just what was he doing there alone? Then again, a lot of weird things had happened that night...

The thought of the mysterious guard flashed through his mind. “Oh, that’s right.”

“What is?” Minho prodded, making Newt jump. He didn’t realize he had spoken out loud.

“I forgot to tell you earlier,” he began, as they turned into another hallway. “I saw a guard sneaking around two nights ago. In the ballroom.”

“A guard?”

“Yeah. At least I think so. He was wearing a cloak so it was hard to tell.”

Minho frowned. “What were you doing in the ballroom, anyway? That late?”

 _Oh bloody hell._ “I…” he cleared his throat, stalling. “I just couldn’t sleep. Needed to walk around a little to clear my head.”

If Minho didn’t believe him, he didn’t show it. Instead, the two walked in silence until they reached their destination; the interview rooms.

For some reason, Newt felt as if years had passed since he last walked into these rooms. But it had only been a few weeks. A small handful of men and women were sitting in the waiting room, though they all rose and bowed the moment he entered.

“You may stand,” he ordered, before randomly pointing at one man. “You’re first.”

♛♛♛

Newt remembered why he had hated these interviews.

While he did once and a while get some valid information, all of it was far too vague or crypt for it to be of any use. All these interviews seemed to prove was that no one really knew who the rebels were, and what their purpose was.

He supposed it made sense, though, considering what happened back at Daichi. All that chaos just to ensure a prisoner’s escape. Just to ensure no important information was leaked. If he were to investigate, going back to Daichi made more sense… or to even go up to Aitheria, where the Duke had died. If anything, he should spend more time investigating the guards then the townspeople, since it could have only been a guard or some other castle staff member that let in the rebels into the castle. Right?

“There’s one more left,” Minho said, shaking him out of his thoughts.

He frowned. “I thought you said that that was the last one.”

The knight shrugged. “Another one just slipped in. I told the guards to not let anymore come, though.”

Newt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright. Let’em in.”

He nodded, moving to open the door. The sound of a clearing throat made Newt look up from his desk, only to have his heart drop at the sight of familiar brown hair and tan skin.

It was Brenda.

For a moment, all Newt felt was intense fear. _Oh bloody hell she’s gonna tell him and everything will be ruined--_

But when they made eye contact, Brenda didn’t even seem surprised. She bowed deeply to him, and it took Newt a few seconds before he cleared his throat and ordered, “You may rise.”

But Brenda didn’t move. “If I may, Your Highness,” she began, in a quiet, polite voice, “may I request that we have this interview in private?”

Minho’s back straightened in protest. “Absolutely not--”

“Sure,” Newt cut in, ignoring the daggers Minho glared at him. “That’ll be fine.” He gave Minho a stern look before the knight sighed, and walked out the door.

It was only till after Minho left that Brenda straightened herself. She slid into her seat, the scrape of her chair against the floor sounding amplified in the silence.

Brenda opened her mouth to speak, but he quickly placed a hand across her mouth, making her glare.

“Minho’s probably eavesdropping,” he whispered, “so talk quietly.”

When she nodded, he released her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes when she wiped the back of her hand across her lips, disgust imprinted onto her face.

“You knew,” Newt stated.

She scoffed. “How ignorant do you think I am to not know the face of my own prince?”

“Um,” he mumbled awkwardly, “As ignorant as the rest of the town?”

“That’s because no one spends that much attention to you when you’re dressed in rags,” she shot back. “I’m sure if more people did, they’d easily find out.”

Newt paused. “Are you gonna tell him?”

“No,” she answered, almost making him sigh in relief. “Not yet, anyway.” She scowled at him. “I’ll tell you the complete truth. I don’t like you. At all. I hate everyone in the monarchy. Sitting all nice in their chairs while everyone else is left to crawl on the floor. When the King died, I thought, ‘Good riddance.’ ”

He clenched his fists, anger rushing through his veins. “Oh yeah? Are you sure you don’t just hate me because you’re in bloody love with Thomas?”

The heat in her eyes flared. “Shut up. As if you have the right to say that. I know you have feelings for him, too.” She placed her hands on the table, leaning in. “But I’ve known Thomas for much longer than you have. I know him better. And not to mention, you’re being completely unfair to him. Lying to his face like that? He doesn’t know who you are. He just thinks he does, and it’s that person that he likes, not you.” She gestured to him, to his crown. “Not _this_. What are you planning to do, huh? Lie to him forever? You can’t. And you know that.”

Newt gritted his teeth. He did know that. He knew that he was being unfair, that the only thing he could do to Thomas is hurt him in the end. “I don’t need you to tell me things I already buggin’ know."

 _“Then leave him alone,”_ Brenda threatened, eyes freezing over to ice. She stood up abruptly, chair moving back with a loud screech, before she swiftly walked out the door.

 

♛♛♛

 

Thomas was so fucked.

 _Why did I do that?_ He thought helplessly. _I totally just pissed him off even more. He’s not even gonna come._

And yet, here he was, on their roof, with a trash bin, cleaning up. He had even washed the blanket and pillows and read two (two!) chapters from the book he gave him. His logic was that maybe Newt wouldn’t be as angry when he saw what he’d done...if he even showed up, that is.

But then again, Thomas didn’t even know if he wanted Newt to come. He was still angry with him--still wished he wasn’t so secretive. It was unfair. In fact, he was confused as to why his drunken self kissed Newt in the first place, when his sober self was still furious over the fact that someone he poured his heart and soul into didn’t even trust him enough to do the same.

It was unfair.

But it was also still wrong of him to have put Newt in a corner like that, especially since Thomas had a feeling it was Newt’s first kiss...he didn’t really remember much, but he remembered...enough. He remembered enough to think that it must’ve been pretty nice.

The thought made heat flush through his cheeks. _Stop it._

He supposed the only thing he could do at the moment was wait.

So he situated himself on the blanket and crossed his arms behind his head, watching the sky turn darker and darker.

And darker.

And darker.

And darker.

When the sky began to turn lighter, he sighed in defeat. Newt wasn’t coming.

 _Might as well sleep then,_  he thought, closing his eyes, before a noise made them snap open. He sat up quickly, making his head spin for a minute, and he blinked at the figure in front of him.

“Newt?”

The boy stared at him warily. His hair was up in a bun again, but his hat was nowhere to be seen. “Do you...remember?”

Thomas felt his face burn. “Uh, yeah. I’m really sorry--”

“It’s fine,” Newt cut in. “Not your fault. You were drunk off your bloody ass.”

“But wasn’t that your first?” He blurted.

This time, Newt’s face flushed scarlet. “Whatever! It’s not like that klunk matters anyway.”

That just made Thomas feel worse. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the boy replied, before glancing around. “You cleaned up,” he stated, frowning. “I could’ve helped you.”

“Yeah, well maybe if you didn’t take so shucking long to get here, you could’ve,” Thomas retorted, laying back down on the blanket.

Newt stayed where he was, hands shoved into his pockets. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go or not.”

He stayed silent, taking in his words. “I’m still angry at you.”

“I know,” Newt answered. “You’ve got every buggin’ right to be. I’m sorry for being so secretive. It’s unfair of me.” When Thomas didn’t say anything, he awkwardly continued, clearing his throat. “I do trust you,” he said, finally laying down next to him. “I really do. It’s just that certain circumstances prevent me from telling you stuff.”

“Certain circumstances, huh,” Thomas said skeptically, turning his head to look at the other boy. They made eye contact, and for some reason Thomas found himself relaxing. Newt’s eyes were really nice. They reminded him of dark chocolate.

He smiled wryly. “I know, it sounds pretty sketchy. But one day I’ll tell you everything.”

Thomas paused, taking in the other boy’s features. He looked like he was being honest, as far as Thomas could tell…

Pink spread through Newt's face, making him realize how close they were. Huh. He could practically feel Newt's breath on his face. His gaze dropped down to Newt's lips. Lips he had already kissed, apparently.

Huh.

Without really thinking about it, he leaned forward, lips easily connecting with Newt's.

♛♛♛

Kissing Thomas was always hot.

Hot as in, the actual _heat_. Not in...the other way.

His lips were always warm. Burning, even. His breath was hot and his hands, hotter.

Thomas moved, rolling them over so Newt was on his back, and for a second, nothing was in his mind except for, _holy shit he's on top of me_ before his mind blanked with pleasure. Thomas pulled at his bun, making the strands unravel behind him in waves.

He didn’t really know what he was doing, but then again, he was pretty sure Thomas was winging it a little, too. It was nice, though. More than that. Though he was still in a bit of denial over the fact that this was actually happening.

He pulled away, gasping for breath. Thomas leaned forward to peck kisses on his collarbone. “So,” he started, before leaning down to place another kiss on his skin. “Is this a promise?”

It took an embarrassingly long time for Newt to process his words. “For what?” He breathed.

Thomas grinned at him. “That you’ll tell me everything. One day.”

He paused, staring up at him. He stared at the way his eyes glowed, at the flush of his skin, and the light of his smile.

_I want this._

“Yeah,” he answered, reaching up to brush his fingers against Thomas’ cheek. “I promise.”

Thomas leaned in again, making Newt laugh, before returning the kiss.

♛♛♛

“You know,” Newt began, smiling. “When you told me last night that’d we’d continue tomorrow, I didn’t think you actually bloody meant it.”

“I said that?” Thomas squeaked, making him laugh. Thomas wrapped an arm around Newt’s waist, pulling Newt close again, ignoring his protests. “This is what you want, right?”

He stared him. “Is this what you want?”

Thomas nodded, making the prince smile with both glee and relief.

“Then, yeah,” Newt answered, “This is what I want, too. Even though you’re not the most handsomest shank around--”

“Hey!”

He laughed again. He felt ridiculously happy. “I gotta go.”

Thomas nodded, letting him go. Newt smiled at him, before descending down the ladder.

He walked home in a daze. His skin still tingled from where Thomas touched him, his head still buzzing from Thomas’ kisses. To be honest, he wasn’t really sure why this had happened. He’d never thought it could happen, too invested in his own feelings to wonder about Thomas’. He still didn’t really know how Thomas felt about this whole thing. How he felt about _him_.

But that was for later. Now, he was content with just basking in the dream.

When he crawled up onto his balcony, he sighed with relief, stretching his arms over his head. He glanced out to the distance, at the rising sun, before turning around and heading back inside. He was ready to plop down on his bed and sleep.

He groaned, throwing off his shirt, before a voice nearly stopped his heart.

Minho glared at him, arms crossed, back leaning against the far wall. His chain mail glinted in the faint light. His eyes narrowed.

“Did you have a fun night, _Your Highness_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this wasn't as long as the previous chapter...I'm not as satisfied with this one as much but I think it's alright. Thanks to everyone who's sticking with me infrequent updates. (I should probably change that note about updates every Sunday because that has obviously not happened.)


	13. we should just kiss like real people do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I will not ask you where you came from   
> I would not ask and neither would you  
> Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips  
> we should just kiss like real people do
> 
> or: in which things are discussed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song in the summary is Like Real People Do by Hozier and I totally recommend it because its one of the songs that helped me write this fanfic in the first place. Idk I think it suits Newtmas in this story well. 
> 
> IT COULD BE SUNDAY SOMEWHERE MAYBE

The pair stared at each other for what seemed like hours, before Newt relented,  sighing and raising his hand to run it through his hair. “How’d you find out?”

“That little friend of yours has to get a bit better at whispering,” Minho explained, glare still unwavering. “That, and you need to find better hiding places for things. I mean seriously, a bookshelf?”

“I knew you saw that,” the prince mumbled.

“And you were always never getting any sleep,” Minho continued, pushing off the wall. “It wasn’t really that hard to figure out.”

“Well gee, I’m bloody sorry I didn’t do a better job of being discreet,” Newt snapped.

Minho scoffed. “That’s really all you have to say to me? Your body guard? Whose job is to watch over you?”

“Not my fault you can’t do your job,” Newt retorted, slipping his shirt back on. This wasn’t really a conversation that could be held half naked.  

Minho didn’t seem to appreciate his sass, face scrunching in anger. “I’m being shucking serious!” The knight snapped, eyes blazing. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, leaving the castle? At night? Going into town? Talking to some guy?”

Newt blinked at him, surprised. “You _followed_ me?”

He huffed, turning his head away. “Of course I did! Why wouldn’t I?”

“So you--” Newt sputtered, cheeks burning, “So you saw…” He stared, mortified, at the pink flushing across Minho’s cheeks. _“What the fuck--”_

“Look, I didn’t see _all_ of it, okay, holy fuck, do you think I’m some kind of shuckfaced pervert?” Minho exclaimed, obviously embarrassed as he was. “The moment I saw you guys start being lovey dovey I backed the fuck out of there.”

Newt covered his face with his hands, wanting to die then and there. “Bloody hell,” he groaned, “this is why I never wanted you to find out.”

“You mean besides the fact you’re deliberately putting yourself in danger?” Minho replied dryly. “He doesn’t know who you are, does he?”

“Of course not!” Newt snapped. “How dumb do you think I am?’

“Pretty dumb, considering what you’ve been doing recently,” Minho answered. “What if someone from the coup recognizes you, you dumbass shank? Is anything going through that brain of yours?”

“I don’t think anyone from the coup is in that town,” Newt said honestly. If anything, the interviews were proof.

“Even if that’s true,” Minho continued, “that still doesn’t change anything.”

A silence crept onto them after that, the only noise being the ruffle of Newt’s window curtains, as a small breeze brushed through the room.

“Minho,” Newt began, hands balling into fists. “What are you gonna do?”

The knight blinked at him, before sighing, uncrossing his arms. “Nothin’.”

“What?” Newt said, recoiling from surprise.

“I’m not gonna do anything,” Minho answered, sighing again. “I know you’d find a way to see him if I did, anyway. And,” he continued, face morphing into one of slight embarrassment. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you that buggin’ happy. It’s kinda disgusting.”

“Nice to know you care,” Newt retorted dryly, before sobering. “Thanks, Minho.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Minho mumbled, crossing his arms again. “This doesn’t come without conditions you know.” He pointed a finger at him sternly. “You have to tell me when you leave. And you have to be back by twilight. No later. Got that, shank? And if you don’t follow my rules, I’ll tell Sir Mark on you.”

“Tattle tale.”

The knight shrugged. “Rather be that than responsible for your death. I am your body guard, you know. If you died, It’d ruin my reputation.”

“Not like it was that bloody great in the first place,” Newt shot back, grinning at the boy’s glare.

“Watch it, shuckface. I’m in the perfect position to blackmail you.”

“You kind of already are,” he said. “Thanks again, man.”

“Yeah,” Minho replied. “Now go to sleep.” He began to walk out the door, but stopped before turning the doorknob. “By the way, I’m telling Aileen and Alby.”

“What? No!”

♛♛♛

The smirk Aileen had at the dining table gave it all away.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed, “I’m gonna kill him.”

“You’re not skilled enough to,” Aileen replied bluntly, smirk still on her face.

“Get that bloody look off your face. It’s not becoming of a princess,” he ordered.

“Neither is having a secret commoner boyfriend!” Aileen sang, making him want to jump out a window.

“Shut up,” he hissed, cheeks flushing red. “I can’t believe he actually told you, too.” Newt had woken up to yet another, and much more sterner lecture from Alby this morning; filled with _I can’t believe you did that_ and _you dumbass shank_ and, by far the most impressive, in Newt’s opinion, _the next time you do something dumb like this I’m just gonna let you die like you deserve, you shuckfaced, lovestruck, asshat shank._

“I’m honestly hurt,” the girl teased, sighing dramatically as she placed a hand over her heart. “You were having all these fun adventures, without including your cooped up sister.”

“Please,” Newt scoffed, “you wouldn’t be able to even make it to the town.”

“I could!”

“I don’t think so, Little Bugger,” he retorted, smirking, “and even if you did, you’re too proper. You’d give yourself away.”

“You’re making it sound like that’s a bad thing for a princess to be, brother. Maybe I could give you a few tips.”

He glared at her, making her laugh.

“But,” Aileen began, sobering up, making Newt raise an eyebrow, “you do know that you’re being a little unfair to him, right? Lying to him this way.”

“Yeah, Of course I do,” he muttered, looking away. “We had a whole buggin’ argument about me keeping secrets. I don’t see how I can make it better, though.”

She frowned at him. “Why don’t you just tell him?”

“What?” Newt exclaimed, “I can’t! For one thing, Mother would never approve, second, he probably wouldn’t believe me, and third, he just thinks I’m a normal guy, not the shuckin’ prince. And that’s probably what he wants. Not...someone royal.”

As soon as the words left Newt’s mouth, he realized they were true. The day his mother approved of his relationship with a commoner, with a peasant, would be the day she died. And maybe not even then. Not to mention the Royal Court wouldn’t approve either, especially Janson. So how on earth could their relationship ever work?

And to put pressure on Thomas like that, to put a commoner in a royal setting, where everyone would be watching his every move...Newt started leaving the castle at night because he wanted to get away from all that. He definitely didn’t want to put Thomas into all that. It would be unfair of him. It’d be wrong of him, especially if it was something he didn’t want.

But it was also unfair and wrong of him to lie like this to Thomas. Either way, he was still being an asshole.

That’s just fucking great.

“I think that’s something he needs to decide himself,” Aileen mused, head tilting, blue eyes analyzing. “If he really cares for you, he’d be okay with it. And if he doesn’t, then it just wasn’t meant to be.” She shrugs.  “You can’t abandon your duty for him.”

“Of course not,” he scoffed, the idea itself ridiculous. No. As much as he cared about Thomas, he could never run away from his duties. Yeah, being a prince was stressful sometimes, but it was something he was born to do. Literally. It was expected of him to help run the kingdom, to one day take over it, and he could never just leave that all behind without feeling an immense amount of guilt.

He’d hate himself.

“But even if he’s okay with all that, it still wouldn’t change the fact that people wouldn’t approve.” He glanced down at his hands. “To be honest, it’d be better if I just ended this now.”

“You should give Mother more credit,” Aileen chided. “You’re more similar than you think. Maybe that’s why you guys disagree so much. I read something about that somewhere.”

“This isn’t one of your books, Aileen,” Newt mumbled tiredly.

“I know that!” She exclaimed. “I was just mentioning it. Geez.” She crossed her arms, obviously irked. She always became angry, whenever Newt treated her like she was an actual ten year old. Which, she was. Just with the mind of a middle aged woman. Or genius. “The fact still remains that you need to tell him one way or another. So why not do it now, before you become even more attached?”

Before he could answer, the doors opened, startling him. He stood up when he realized it was his mother walking in.

“Good morning, my children,” Ava greeted, as they bowed to her. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s no problem, Mother,” Aileen said, smiling as she took her seat, Newt following her actions. “We weren’t waiting long.”

“That’s good,” she murmured as servants whizzed around, serving plates. “I hope both of you slept well?”

Newt just nodded while Aileen replied with a cheery, “Yes, how about you?” The pair continued to make small talk while Newt stared at the food on his plate, suddenly not very hungry. Aileen’s words were still ringing in his head, muffling everything else around him.

He supposed what she said made sense. Yes, it was better to tell Thomas as soon as possible now, before things in their relationship got too far. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but think that things had already gotten too far. Things had gotten too far the moment Newt took Thomas’ hand and let him lead him through the crowd.

You’ve got no one to blame but yourself, he chastised. So you’ve got to take responsibility.

He nodded to himself. Yes. He would tell Thomas. Tonight. He’d bring his crown, as proof, or maybe something else… something that would make Thomas believe him.

“Newton,” Ava started, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I’ve been messaging the Duchess and advisors in Daichi along with the Royalties in Kai and Qamar. There’ll be a Royal Court meeting about that today, so be prepared when I summon for you.”

“Instead of messaging, why not hold a Conference?” Newt asked, frowning. “It’d be a lot easier.”

“The risk of traveling is too great,” the queen explained. “They’d be much more open to attack. We’ve already lost three people.”

“If only we had the information to stop that from happening in the first place,” he said, accusation hidden in his tone.

“Well,” Ava replied, returning his glare evenly. “I assigned that job to you, didn’t I?”

The rest of breakfast was eaten in silence.

♛♛♛

“So how long has this been going on?” Alby asked, watching as Minho and him sparred. The three of them were in the Glade, Alby sitting crosslegged, Newt’s crown on his lap, back leaning against a rock.

“Two to three months?” Newt panted, parrying Minho’s blow, the action making Alby wince at the ringing sound of clashing metal.

“You’ve been together for that long?” He asked, surprised.

“No,” the prince answered, grunting as he recoiled back from Minho’s attack, barely dodging it. “We’ve only just been friends until recently.” He swung his sword at Minho’s left side, which proved to be a mistake, since Minho expected it, easily blocking the blow and knocking Newt off his feet. The knight smirked down at him, making him scowl. “Alby was distracting me.”

“Don’t blame me for your buggin’ incompetence,” the boy teased, and Newt sighed when the two of them laughed.

Minho held out his hand and pulled him up, patting his back. “One day you might be able to hit me. Or maybe not.”

“Minho, we get it, you’re a prodigy,” Newt muttered dryly.

“But anyways,” Alby continued, pushing the conversation back on track, “You’ve been seeing this shank for all this shucking time? Without tellin’ us?”

“Actually, I started sneaking out way before that. I meant that two to three months ago was when I met him,” he replied sheepishly. “I mean, to be fair, you guys were super bloody pissed when you found out!” He defended, at Alby’s hurt expression.

“Because you were sneaking out at night without telling us!”

“Yeah, I think that’s the whole buggin’ point to sneaking out, Alby--”

“Well, why’d you start doing it in the first place?” Minho cut in, placing his sword in his sheathe.

Newt shrugged. “Just to get some fresh air. The palace was starting to get...cloudy.”

This made both of his friends freeze. Newt turned his gaze down to his shoes.

“For shuck’s sake,” Minho breathed, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It wasn’t as bad as last time,” he claimed, running his hands through his hair. “And it helped me. It made me want to do things. I’d get up and do things because I knew that the faster the day went, the faster I could leave.” He shrugged again. “It was a coping mechanism. I didn’t want it to be taken away.”

Silence crept onto them, the pair not really knowing what to say.

“If it ever happens again,” Alby said, “you better make sure to tell us, got that?”

Newt nodded. “Good that.”

“You gonna see him again, tonight?” Minho asked, moving to sit down next to Alby on the grass, Newt following him.

“Yeah,” he answered, hands pulling at the grass stalks. “I think I’m gonna tell him who I am.”

“What?” Both boys said at the same time, the action almost making Newt laugh.

“Are you shucked in the head?” Alby continued, frowning. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Aileen and I were talking about it this morning,” he explained, “and I think it makes sense. If I want this to work I have to be honest with him. And if he isn’t okay with it then--” he shrugged passively, “there’s not that much damage done.”

Minho frowned. “I guess, but I still don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Alby agreed, crossing his arms. “Do you really trust this Thomas guy that much?”

“Yeah,” he answered, the certainty in his voice surprising even him. “Yeah, I do.”

Minho studied him, eyes flickering, before turning to make eye contact with Alby. “Fine then,” he murmured, after a few moments. “I trust you, so I guess I’ll take my chances on the other shank.”

“Yeah,” Alby grumbled. “I hope you know what you’re doin’, Newt.”

♛♛♛

As the doors to the throne room opened, Newt felt surprised that he and Minho were one of the first people there, besides his mother and Janson. Both of them bowed respectfully, before Minho turned to walk to the side of the room while Newt marched up the steps to his throne. His mother barely gave him a glance when he sat down; not that he minded.

They sat in silence as more members of the Court started streaming in. Harriet was one of the first to arrive, dressed in an orange gown. She bowed deeply in greeting.

“I’m glad you’re alright, Your Highness,” she said, almost making Newt jump in surprise. He wasn’t expecting anyone from the Royal Court to ever acknowledge him. “I was worried when I heard about the attack.”

He blinked for a few moments before nodding. “Thank you,” he said, not really knowing what else to say.

It took a few moments before everyone arrived. The throne room was filled with a hushed murmur of voices.

“I suppose it’s time to start,” Ava stated. Her lips were the usual crimson, her hair in it’s usual bun. “I’m sure all of you have heard about Daichi by now.”

The members of the royal court nodded, a quiet murmur of voices expressing their affirmation.

“I’d like to know the details, however, if that’s okay, Your Majesty,” Harriet spoke, hands properly folded on her lap.

The queen turned to him, eyes expecting. “Newton?”

He forced himself not to scowl. “There’s not really much to say,” he began. “I interrogated the prisoner practically the moment I arrived. She didn’t give anything away. During my speech at the festival later that night, M-- _Sir Minho_ ,” he bit out, ignoring Minho’s smug smile, “noticed something off. We had our guards stay alert. But they didn’t attack until after my speech. During the chaos, Sir Minho and I went back to the castle using the secret passageways. By the time we arrived, the Baron and Baroness were already dead, and the prisoner gone. We think the attack during the festival was more of a distraction than anything else.”

“All that just for a prisoner?” Harriet exclaimed, frowning. “I don’t understand. That seems awfully counterproductive, even if they had the chance to assassinate the Baron and Baroness.”

“I agree,” Newt said, frowning. “But then again, we don’t really know the specifics of their goal,” he reasoned, giving his mother a glance. “Or the reasons behind them.”

If Ava caught his accusing look, she didn’t show it. “Either way, the people are against them,” she added. “Even if they somehow took over the kingdom, it’d be questionable if they had enough loyalty to even control it.”

For some reason, at that statement, Thomas popped into his mind. His denied wishes, his yearning for wanting to be more but never getting the chance.

_“That's just how the world works, I suppose. The more power you have, the more freedom you have."_

“Loyalty doesn’t control people,” he found himself blurting out, “power does.”

Everyone seemed to pause in their tracks, shocked at his statement. To disagree with the queen so openly was considered quite rare, even for a prince. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling dry.

“The more power you have, the easier it is for you to get and do what you want,” he continued, not even hiding the accusation in his voice anymore. “The easier it is for you to _hide_ things.”

“Newton,” Ava hissed, frozen blue eyes barely containing her fiery anger.

But that didn’t stop him. “The more power they get over us, the easier it’ll be for them to control us,” he went on, standing up and walking down the steps leading to his throne before turning to face his mother.  “They know more about us then we know about them. We need all the information we can get, and yet, because you’re the queen, because you’re my mother, you insist on withholding things when you assigned me to investigate! How can I do my job when you won’t let me?”

Ava locked her gaze with his, eyes blazing. “Meeting dismissed,” she demanded coldly. The court members quickly stood up, scurrying out the room, along with the knights and servants. Newt stayed frozen in his spot, both him and his mother not moving as they waited for the room to clear. Minho gave him a nod before leaving, letting him know that the knight had his back.

“Do you even realize what you just did?” Ava accused, face flushing from anger. “Not only have you made the Royal Court questionable of me, you’ve made them see you act like a child throwing a fit. Maybe you don’t see it that way,” she intervened, holding up a hand when Newt began to retaliate, “but you of all people should know that people are questioning your competence for king. You were never that good at your studies, and not to mention your limp doesn’t help your image,” she added, making him grit his teeth. “Reckless acts like these won’t help your reputation.”

“You wouldn’t listen to me any other time,” he defended, “and even now, you’re still treating me like a child. You shouldn’t be surprised when I meet your expectations.”

“Newt,” she said, sighing. The use of his nickname made him flinch in surprise. “I promise, as a mother, I will tell you what you want to know when the time’s right.”  
 _Bullshit_ , he wanted to say, but even he knew when he’d pushed the limit. “Did Dad really do such terrible things?”

She smiled bitterly. “Dinner’s about to start,” she brushed off. “You best hurry. Tell Aileen I won’t be at dinner tonight, okay?”

He held in a sigh, bowing before turning to walk out. Before he exited thought, he stopped, turning to face his mother once again. “Since you won’t tell me,” he vowed, “I’ll find out myself.”

Surprise seemed to flicker across Ava’s face, before her lips stretched into an impressed smile. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll look forward to that.”

 

♛♛♛

 

It was strange.

To be completely honest, Thomas had never really seen Newt in _that_ light, had never even really _thought_ about it. Or maybe he did, but just didn’t really realized what it meant.

All he knew was that it sort of just all hit him at once, that Newt was this...something. Something special. And he wasn’t sure if he made that clear last night, since he just sort of….kissed him. Multiple times.

“Tom?” Teresa called out, shaking him out of his thoughts, cheeks flushing.

“Y-Yeah?”

His three friends eyed him curiously. Right now, they were at Frypan’s shop, eating dinner.

“Stop staring at me like that--”

“Something happened,” Teresa stated, the same time Gally groaned. Brenda stayed silent, though a frown was apparent on her face.

“You’ve been acting weird ever since this morning,” she continued, “did something happen with Newt last night?”

“What? No!” He sputtered, the heat in his cheeks growing, “why would you think that?”

“Don’t tell me…” Brenda muttered ominously, “you two actually got together?”

“W-What gives you that idea?”

“Maybe the fact that you’re blushing so hard you look like you’re about to faint,” Gally answered dryly. “I mean, you guys already kissed, right? Sure, you were drunk, but he really seemed to enjoy it, so. S’not that big of a surprise.”

“You guys saw that?” Thomas squeaked, wanting to bury himself in a hole.

“Honestly, Tom,” Teresa chided, “you really thought we were going to let you go home drunk like that with a stranger?”

“Newt’s not a stranger--”

“Yeah, yeah, you and him have a special connection, whatever,” Gally cut in.

“That’s not what I was going to say!” he cried, standing up abruptly. “I’m leaving.”

“Aw, you’re no fun, Tom.”

He ignored her, turning to walk out, opening the door only to blink in shock at the figure in front of him.

“Newt?”

The boy stared at him, eyes wide. He was dressed as he usually was, hair in a bun and hidden by a cap, though a satchel was hanging across his shoulder and chest.

“Tommy,” Newt greeted, voice cracking. He flushed, clearing his throat.  “Hi.”

_“He calls him Tommy?”_ Thomas heard Teresa whisper loudly, and he resisted the urge to scowl.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, gaze dropping to the ground. He suddenly felt strangely shy.

“You weren’t on the roof,”  Newt answered, shoving his hands in his pockets. “ So I thought I might as well get somethin’ to eat. I didn’t think you’d be here.” A small smile spread across his lips. “Now would you let me in? We’re kinda blockin’ the doorway, here.”

“Oh! R-Right,” he stammered, moving hurriedly to the side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was that late already.”

“S’fine,” Newt answered easily, nodding politely towards Thomas’ friends. Gally scowled, while Teresa waved, Brenda doing nothing at all.

“It’s nice to see you again, Newt,” Teresa said, smiling as the pair approached.

“Yeah, you too,” he replied, albeit awkwardly. He shifted his weight to his left foot, looking around the small shop. “I always thought this was just a bakery,” he mused, “not a restaurant.”

“Frypan cooks the best food,” Thomas stated, grinning.

Newt raised an eyebrow at him. “Frypan?”

“The guy who runs this place,” he answered, grabbing a hold of the other boy’s shoulder to turn him around, pointing at the dark skinned cook in the front. At the same time, Frypan raised his head from his work, eyes suddenly flashing in recognition.

“Hey, I remember you!” He exclaimed. “You’re the Greenie that paid me extra last time.”

Thomas blinked, glancing at Newt who suddenly seemed uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I don’t remember how much I owe ya. You want a free loaf of bread or something?”

“No! No, it’s okay, really,” Newt hurriedly protested, “it’s not a big deal.”

“Please,” Frypan insisted, already offering a loaf of bread in his hands, walking across the room when Newt refused to budge. “It’s been buggin’ me ever since. You gotta watch your money, man, especially with the taxes rising even higher now.”

Newt frowned at that, but still took the loaf of bread anyway, reluctance visible on his face. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, before noticing the look Thomas was giving him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. Newt just looked so touched by the notion, that he found it almost adorable. Endearing, even. “Do you wanna get outta here?”

“What about your friends?” Newt asked, warily looking over his shoulder to see the trio watching them as if they were a TV show.

“As if we care what this shank does,” Gally grumbled.

“You guys go ahead,” Teresa reassured, smiling. “Don’t do anything too scandalous. _Tommy's_ still pure at heart, after all.”

Thomas sputtered, cheeks heating up as he took Newt’s hand and dragged him out the door.

“You okay, Brenda?” Teresa asked, after a while.

“Yeah,” she answered, hands picking at the wooden tabletop. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

♛♛♛

“What?” He asked, feeling his face heat up by the burn of Newt’s gaze. They were walking side by side now, through the streets.

“Nothin’,” Newt answered, a smirk on his lips, “I just didn’t take you as the flustered type.”

His cheeks burned at the comment, making Newt laugh.

“Tommy,” he murmured, “are you nervous?”

“A little,” he admitted, gazing down at his shoes. “I’m not really sure why.”

“S’alright,” Newt reassured, tentatively reaching out to take his hand, sending tingles up his spine. “I am a little, too.”

He stared at their intertwined hands, a warm feeling in his chest.

Soon, they arrived to the ally leading to their rooftop. Newt went up the ladder first, letting go of his hand to do so, making him feel strangely empty. He quickly followed him, smiling when he reached the top. Newt was already situating himself, sitting down to lean back on his arms, satchel placed next time. He felt the urge to ask him about it, but held his tongue. It probably wasn’t important, anyway.

Thomas settled in next to him, and after a few moments of internally debating, decided to rest his head on the other boy’s shoulder. Almost immediately after he did that, Newt moved his arm to rest around his back, hand on his hip, as if he were waiting.

They sat there for awhile, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Thomas felt words gather in his head, though, knowing he still had some things to say about last night.

He felt things had happened too quickly yesterday--he didn’t really get to say what he wanted to say. In fact he really didn’t get to say anything really, since they were… preoccupied. He knew he really liked Newt. As a friend and as...not. He enjoyed talking with him, enjoyed spending time with him, found himself thinking of him and wanting to spend time with him more and more. He now knew why he felt so unbearably scared when he hear about the attack on Daichi, or terribly hurt when they had their fight. Losing Newt was the last thing he wanted. He would miss him. He would hurt. And the time it would take him to recover, would be extremely long. Maybe endless. Newt had helped him with his reading. He’d taught him things, helped him gain more knowledge of the world, something he’d always yearned for.

But he’d also been his friend, he had listen to whatever he had to say, and Thomas didn’t think there was anyone who could ever replace him.

And yeah, he still really wished Newt would tell him more about himself, but if Newt really believed he couldn’t tell him right now, then Thomas would believe and trust  him. It was the least he could do, right?

“Newt--”

“Tommy--”

They both stopped, blinking at each other before bursting into chuckles.

“You first,” Newt said, and Thomas smiled at him.

“I-I’m not sure if I was really clear with my feelings yesterday,” he began, feeling his face heat up. “I just wanted you to know that I like you. A lot.”

“I like you a lot, too,” Newt replied. The pink on the boy’s cheeks only made Thomas feel more embarrassed.

“And, if you really aren’t comfortable with telling me who you are right now,” he continued, turning his body to face the other boy, grabbing both of his hands. “Then that’s fine. I can wait. I’ll still like you either way.”

Newt stared at him, eyes wide, before crinkling, as a gentle smile spread across his face. “Thanks, Tommy. That...really means a lot.”

He returned the smile, before suddenly lips were on his, burning him. He pulled Newt closer, hand raising to cup his face.

He thought of Phaeton, and the way he flew his father’s chariot too close to the sky, burning the heavens.

_This is what it must feel like,_ he thought to himself, smiling into the kiss.

“So what did you want to say to me?” He panted, when they pulled away.

Newt just shook his head, already leaning in for another kiss. “Nothin’,” he murmured against his lips, and by then, both of them had forgotten, anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY quick world explanation time. 
> 
> There are five main cities in "The Scorch". You've already heard of two of them, Daichi ("earth", in Japanese,) and Aitheria ("the wind" in Greek). The capital, where Newt and Thomas live, is Celosia ("burning", in Greek). The final city is Kai ("the sea, in Hawaiian).   
> (And I got all these from http://hasani.net.phtemp.com/names.html so forgive me if I'm wrong)  
> Surrounding these cities are bunches of other villages, it's just that those are kind of their own little capitals, if that makes sense. 
> 
> In each city, there are members of the monarchy, i.e. the King and Queen in Celosia, the Duke and Duchess in Aitheria, and the Baron and Baroness in Daichi. The higher the rank, the richer/bigger the city. Baron isn't as high as a title as the Duke, so Daichi is poorer and smaller in size than Aitheria. 
> 
> Each leader in those cities has their own Royal Court, made up of advisers and/or members of the nobility. A Royal Conference, which Newt briefly mentioned in this chapter, is a meeting of all the members of the monarchy. 
> 
> AND THIS WOULD'VE BEEN EASIER TO EXPLAIN IF I HAD FIGURED OUT ON HOW TO POST MY CRAPPY MAP THAT I DREW BUT OH WELL THANKS FOR READING AND THANKS FOR THE COMMENTS LOVE YOU ALL LOTS.


	14. I'm feeling lost and cold as a sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's death, anger, regret, a minor character gets some startling development, and Newtmas is nowhere to be found. (Sorry.)

Newt stumbled into his room, a sudden exhaustion suddenly encasing him. His lips felt swollen, his hair was a mess, and he was pretty sure Thomas left a mark on his neck somewhere, even though he specifically told him not to.

“Newt.”

He jumped, only to blink in shock at the figure standing before him. “Minho?” He started, frowning at the steeled look in the others eye, and the fact that he was still wearing his chain mail this late. He felt his tiredness fade away, replaced with trepidation. “What’s happened?”

The knight just shook his head. “I’ll explain later. Hurry up and get changed. Be as quick as you can, I’ve already stalled for you for as long as I can. Come to the throne room when you’re done.”

And with that, he quickly turned and left, leaving Newt with more worry. He practically ripped off his clothes, hazardly stuffing them behind his bookcase. He scowled in annoyance as he tried to get his princely clothes on quickly--they were always such as a hassle. He ran out of the room, slipping his crown on his head before leaving.

Minho was waiting for him outside the throne room. Newt made a move to go in, but the other boy stopped him.

“The traitor’s been found,” he murmured, the words hitting Newt like a brick. “It was the same guy you told me about earlier. I camped out by the ballroom tonight with some others and we saw him leave and come back. He’s in the dungeon for now.”

“You’re sure it’s him?” The prince asked, frowning.

Minho shrugged. “That’s what we’re about to find out.”

When they entered the throne room, Newt was surprised to find it almost empty, the only exception being Harriet. She gracefully bowed to him, the fabric of her dress ruffling.

“Rise,” he said, watching as she straightened herself up. “What are you doing here so late?”

“My servants told me about some distress in the castle,” she answered smoothly. “I thought I’d come to check it out. The guards directed me here.”

“Do you know where my mother is?” He asked, glancing at the empty throne.

“Sir Mark has just come back. My guess is that Her Majesty and Janson are with him.”

Minho and Newt turned to give each other a look. “I see. I suppose we’ll wait here with you, then.”

The three stood in a relatively awkward silence. Harriet kept sneaking glances at him curiously, making the side of his face tickle. He turned his head to frown at her. “What is it?”

“Forgive me,” she said, not even sounding embarrassed or thrown off by getting caught staring. “I’ve never been this close to Your Highness before. You’re taller than you seem.”

“I’m tall, too,” Minho put in, eyeing Harriet.

The two ignored him.

“Yes you have,” Newt said, “didn’t we use to play together when we were younger?”

She laughed. “When we were younger, yes,” she said, smiling. “But it was only for those few times my father brought me along when he came for meetings. And you were only about six or seven. It was honestly more like babysitting.”

“You’re only four years older than me,” he grumbled.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m surprised you remember my age.”

He stayed silent, not sure how to respond. To be honest, he had almost completely forgotten about the connection he and Harriet had. But they had never really bonded closely, anyway. They had only played together two or three times, and the only thing he remembered clearly was Harriet always doing whatever he wanted, even if she didn’t enjoy it. He supposed it was because it was what her family trained her to do--to always respect the royal family.

The doors were pushed open, snapping Newt out of his musings. In walked his mother, dressed in her usual red--but the red on her lips were missing. It made the picture feel incomplete.

The three bowed deeply for her, though Minho and Harriet more deeper than Newt.

“Rise,” she said, almost tiredly. Behind her, was Janson, and behind him, Sir Mark, in his arms, a burly knight in chains.

“Harriet,” Ava began, as she walked up to her throne, gesturing Newt to follow. She gracefully sat down, placing her hands on her lap. “What brings you?”

“I heard of the commotion going on in the castle,” she answered. “I thought it’d be best if I were to see what was going on. Forgive me if I’m wrong, Your Majesty.”

The queen frowned. “You’ve brought your family much success after your father’s death, Harriet, and proved your family’s loyalty again and again. I suppose it’d be alright if you learned of this.”

“Thank you,” Harriet graciously said, bowing again. “Your Majesty has given me an honor like no other.”

She moved out the way as Sir Mark pushed the man onto his knees, the gleam of his chainmail standing out from the crimson red of the carpet.

Ava frowned down at him. “Do you know why you’re here, Knight?”

“Look,” he pleaded, voice surprisingly gruff, “I’m not a traitor, I swear! Please! I haven’t done anything wrong!”

A faint look of disgust passed across Ava’s face. “Evidence would suggest otherwise,” she stated. “We’ve caught you leaving at night, through a secret entrance, of all things. A knowledge that shouldn’t be known by a common castle guard. There’s been reports of you returning to the castle with large amounts of jewels. What information have you been selling?”

“I--I haven’t--”

“Don’t lie,” Newt cut in harshly, surprising even himself. “It won’t do anything for you, now.”

The man hung his head. “I haven’t done anything.”

Newt tightened his fists, but pressed on. “Tell us the truth, and we’ll spare your life. What do you know about the rebels? Where are they hiding?”

“I don’t know.”

Ava’s frown deepened as she stood up, holding out her hand. Janson drew his sword, handing it to her. She grasped it easily, not even straining under the weight, something one wouldn’t necessarily expect from a queen.

Newt’s eyes widened, and he hurriedly stood up from his seat. “Mother, what are you doing?”

She ignored him, slowly walking down the steps one at a time, each step as elegant as the next. “The punishment of treason is death,” she stated firmly, blue eyes frozen cold. “You have betrayed this kingdom. You have hurt its’ people. You have killed your closest comrades,” her eyes narrowed to slits as she reached the bottom of the stairway, looming over the man tauntingly, “and you have killed your king. Your name will forever be shamed.”

“Mother, he hasn’t had a proper trial--”

“Silence, Newton,” she ordered, raising her sword.

“Look, I admit it, I’ve sold some information, but it wasn’t to the rebels, I promise! It was--It was just for some kid!” The guard admitted, eyes wide with desperation. “I swear, I didn’t let the rebels in, I’m not with them! Please!”

Newt started down the stairs hurriedly, heart quivering. “We could still get information from him, Mother--”

“I said, silence!” She yelled, voice echoing in the large room. For a second, it was almost as if everyone stopped breathing.

 _“Vivat regnum Illi Aestu Adficere,”_ Ava murmured. “Long live the Scorch Kingdom.”

Newt opened his mouth to scream, but found himself speechless. He watched the sword swing in slow motion.

The blood matched the color of the carpet.

For a moment, all Newt could do was stare, bile rising in his throat. He quickly turned away. Harriet seemed frozen stiff, eyes wide and hand covering her mouth. But everyone else looked rather passive, even Minho. For some reason, the corpse reminded him of Lord Winston and his wife. It made him think of their son, left all alone. And for what? An act of defiance? What purpose did their deaths have, except for the fact that it helped someone show their power? For what reason did his dad die for, except for someone’s endless greed for power and revenge?

He felt himself snap.

 _“Why did you do that?”_ Newt screamed, finally finding his voice. He felt his fear and disgust diminish into anger. He marched up to his mother, eyes burning furiously. “How could you do that?”

She didn’t answer, gaze still on the man’s corpse.

“He could’ve been innocent,” he yelled, almost sounding desperate. His hands shook with barely controlled emotion. “He could’ve been _innocent_ , you had no solid proof at all!”

That seemed to make her react. She raised her head and stared at him with a stone like face. The blood from her sword dripped to the floor. “A ruler can never be afraid to take initiative, Newton.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed. “You think that justifies what you just did? You killed him for no good reason. Just like they killed Dad! You--you’re just like the bloody rebels!”

It all happened in a blink. For one second, his mother was standing in front of him, and in another, Minho was, the sound of two swords clanging brightly into the air.

Ava stumbled back, sword clammering onto the ground. she stared at her hands, eyes wide, as if she couldn’t believe her actions herself.

“You dare raise your sword against Her Majesty?” Janson cried out, reaching his arms out to Ava, steadying her. Sir Mark had already placed himself in front of her, eyes never leaving Minho’s. “Your loyalty should be for her and her only!”

“Loyalty is something that needs to be earned,” Minho answered calmly. “I’ll only promise my loyalty to those who deserve it.” He smiled wryly. “And it was her who ordered me to protect His Highness in the first place. I never thought I’d have to protect him from her, too.”

“N--Newt,” Ava stuttered, “I didn’t mean it--”

“If I thought you were like the rebels before,” he said softly, “I definitely do now.”

He quickly walked out the room. It was only until he was a good distance away did Minho follow him, never daring to look away from Sir Mark.

The room became quiet, again. It smelt strongly of blood.

“Harriet,” Ava began, after recollecting herself. “You must never speak of this to anyone.”

The young lady tilted her head. “Speak of what, Your Majesty?”

Behind her back, her hands were trembling.

  **  
  
**

♛♛♛

He quietly tiptoed into the room, heart still pounding in his ears. He at first went straight to his room, but found that he couldn’t sleep. His mind felt too fogged up. He couldn’t make himself relax. He didn’t really know how to react to what had just happened, didn’t even want to think about it.

Aileen was sound asleep, laying on her side, hair spread out behind her like a fan. Newt felt his lips twitch into a smile, almost against his own will.

He climbed onto the bed, trying to be discreet as possible (Aileen was a pretty light sleeper, after all,) but to no avail. Aileen stirred turning around and blinking at him. “Newt?”

“Go to sleep, Little Bugger,” he murmured. “I’ll tell you in the morning.”

She nodded sleepily, eyes already fluttering closed. “Good night, Newt.”

“Good night.”

 

♛♛♛

Minho sighed as he quietly walked around the castle grounds. He didn’t know how things were going to turn out, now. This was the last thing the castle needed. To have a separation of loyalties within the monarchy would only make the kingdom easier to fall.

Not to mention Newt had already lost his father...he didn’t need to lose his mother, too.

A sound of a footstep behind him made him freeze. He frowned as the sound got closer, hand already reaching for his sword. He whirled around, only to stop in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

Harriet didn’t even seem surprised at how easily she was found out. “I want to help.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Help?”

“His Highness is in charge of investigating, correct?” She began. “And it hasn’t been going well. I think I can help with that.”

“How?”

She smiled dryly. “Part of being a noble is learning how to work around the monarchy,” she answered. “I’ve got more useful connections than you two do. Connections that don’t...keep things hidden from you.”

Minho narrowed his eyes at her. “Sounds like someone’s been eavesdropping.”

“Perhaps,” she mused, eyes glinting. “So? Will you tell me what to look for?”

The knight crossed his arms, frowning at her. “Why do you want to help us?”

“Loyalty is something that needs to be earned, right?” She replied with a grin. “His Highness has earned my loyalty. I want to help him.”

Minho studied her, eyes flickering. “How do I know you won’t betray us?”

“I’ve already kept a secret for His Highness,” she answered, smile widening. “Interesting how he leaves the castle every night, don’t you think? He should be more careful, though, when he passes the nobles’ houses. He’s not the only night owl in the vicinity.”

He frowned, but only to keep the amused grin off his face. “Alright,” Minho relented, holding out his hand. When she shook it, her grip was nice and firm. “We’ve got ourselves a deal.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN THE SCORCH TRIALS MOVIE YET???? AHHHHHHHHHH


	15. silently the senses abandon their defenses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I push through my writers block and Newt may or may not be OOC.  
> or: the thing everyone's been waiting for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been over a month....I'm so sorry....  
> This chapter's kind of a bit of a roller coaster for me because there's some parts I'm really proud of but some parts I want to throw in a trash can  
> Happy late Thanksgiving though guys :D

_**“Newt,”** a voice whispered, tickling his ears. **“Newt. Can you hear me?”**_

_He blinked, staring down at his hands and wrists. His skin looked smooth, his hands small. He turned his head, out towards the window. In the reflection, he looked young, ten at most._

_“Your Highness!” A voice called out, a different one than before. He turned, only to see Miss Trina marching towards him, frowning. Aileen was next to her, holding her hand. “For goodness sake, I told you to follow me, didn’t I? Aileen’s listening to me, why can’t you?”_

_Suddenly his surroundings blurred, and he felt a sense of vertigo. It was almost as if he was being pulled forward, through a strange vacuum of space. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he was in the library, a room he honestly hadn’t gone to in years. He was lying on his stomach in one of the aisles, flipping through what seemed like an atlas. Some maids bustled about, dusting shelves, and giving him glances._

_“Have you heard?” One whispered. “There’ve been whispers of His Highness being incapable.”_

_“Rubbish,” the other maid replied. “He’s just a boy.”_

_Newt ignored them, turning the page, encountering a full map of the kingdom. His eyes swept over it, searching for places he had learned already from Miss Trina, before something caught his eye. He frowned, leaning his face closer to the page._

_In what would be the ocean, there was a layer of blue paint, just barely noticeable, but just thick enough to know that it was hiding something. His frown deepened as he picked the book up, raising the page to the light._

An island _, he thought absentmindedly, as the light shone through the page._

**_“Newt, Newt, can you hear me? I’ve been waiting.”_ **

_He’s pulled forward again, and he clenched his eyes shut as the world spun around him. When it stopped, he opened his eyes, only to see that he was sitting on a desk, his paper lined with doodles, instead of notes._

_Miss Trina stared at him strangely. “There are no islands by the Scorch, Newton. What on earth gave you that idea?”_

_**“Who can you trust? Who’s on your side?”** _

_He’s pulled forward once more, surroundings blurring into a mess of colors. But this time the motion didn’t stop. Voices whispered by his ears, tickling his skin, and sending shivers up his spine._

_“--is incapable.”_

_“---struggles with simple politics...”_

_“He’s just a boy!”_

_“--not good enough.”_

_“--head up in the clouds!”_

_“If he doesn’t change, he’ll grow up only to be incompetent--”_

_“He’s nothing like his father…”_

_“--turn this kingdom into ruin!”_

_“Why--”_

_“Why--”_

_“Why isn’t he more like his father?”_

_Suddenly, everything became clear. The girl from all those nights ago stood in front of him, with her ever present mask and silence, sword firmly gripped in one hand. But before Newt could even react, the girl’s body blurred, morphing into his mother’s. And then back to the girl again. And then back to his mother. Again and again. Until all Newt could see were two beings in the same body._

**_“Who is your enemy?”_ **

 

♛♛♛

 

Newt woke up with an unusual peacefulness.

He could feel Aileen’s head tucked under the crook of his shoulder, and he sighed in content, eyes slowly blinking open. He resisted the urge to stretch, not wanting to wake up Aileen. Instead, he stared at the ray of sunlight shining through the window, watching the specks of dust float through it, almost looking like snow.  

He frowned as he heard footsteps approaching, and eventually a door opening. Miss Trina walked in, her short blonde hair neatly styled. She blinked at him, obviously surprised to see him there, cheeks tinting red.

“Your Highness,” she stumbled out, bowing. “I didn’t realize you were in here as well.”

“Do you need Aileen for something?” He asked, gingerly removing his arm around Aileen’s shoulders and sitting up. He breathed a sigh of relief when she didn’t stir.

“Breakfast is about to be served,” she answered. “I was sent to help Her Highness get ready. And to also inform her that Her Majesty won’t be joining you two today for breakfast.”

“I see,” Newt replied, feigning nonchalance, stretching his arms over his head. Figures his mother would isolate herself. Not that he cared. The more he stayed away from her, the better. “Then I guess I should get ready, too.”

“I’ll have Alby bring in your clothes,” Miss Trina quickly put in, “it’d be dishonorable for Your Highness to walk back to your room in your sleeping clothes. Your Highnesses can prepare together in here.”

He nodded, mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Thank you.”

She turned to leave, but Newt quickly stopped her. “Wait a minute,” he called out, making her turn around. “Since mother won’t be at breakfast, tell her to alert everyone that I won’t be needing to do anymore interviews.”

“I’ll do it right away,” she conceded. She bowed before leaving, the skirt of her dress swishing as she briskly walked out.

“She’s the same as always,” Newt muttered, sighing as he slipped out of the covers, bringing his feet over the side of the bed. He twisted his back to poke Aileen in the cheek. “You gonna stop pretending now, you little shank?”

Aileen’s eyes popped open, a smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I’m not that oblivious,” he retorted, crossing his arms.

She giggled, sitting up, covering her mouth when she yawned. "I had the strangest dream last night," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"Yeah?" Newt replied, frowning. "Me too."

But when he tried to recall it, it was almost as if the dream was lifetimes away.

♛♛♛

 

Clint frowned, fingers prodding at his ankle bone firmly. “Does this hurt?”

Newt mumbled an intelligible response, making Clint sigh.

“Your Highness, you're going to have to work with me, here.”

Sir Mark was out of the option.

Newt frowned, trying to analyze the thoughts in his head. Sir Mark was loyal to his mother. he wouldn’t help him gain the information he needed anymore, good friends or not. He knew the whole situation last night would be kept on the down low; his mother did try to kill him, after all, and there was no way she’d want to shed herself in any bad light. Things would probably still go as things had always gone, just only a thousand times more tense.

Great.

But that didn’t matter now, anyway. Newt still had higher priorities. _Like Izar,_ he thought to himself.

“Your Highness?”

“Hey. Newt.”

Newt blinked, Alby’s rough voice shaking him out of his thoughts. “Yes?”

Clint sighed at him. “Does this hurt your ankle or not?”

At the press of cold fingers against his skin, Newt held in a grimace. _Well when you do that, yeah._  “Not as much as before. Walking’s a lot easier now and I don’t feel that much pain anymore.”

Clint gaped at him, surprised he was actually giving him an honest answer. “Ah, well, that’s some shuckin’ good improvement. Considering you never buggin’ rest or anything.” The doctor hesitated, before speaking again. “May I uh, repeat my offer of wearing a brace--”

“I’m not gonna wear a brace,” Newt deadpanned, causing the doctor to sigh yet again. Newt wondered if the man ever got lightheaded from sighing so much.

“Alright, fine. Just be careful, Your Highness.”  

Newt nodded, but it was obvious his mind was somewhere else again. Alby and Clint shared a look, before Alby just shook his head, gesturing the doctor to go.

“Thanks for coming, Doc,” he said in goodbye, as the doctor gathered his things.

“It’s no problem,” he answered, before glancing back at Newt. “Take care of him.”

“Yeah.”

Clint bowed before leaving, Newt barely acknowledging it. He started biting his nails, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he thought. Something just wasn’t sitting right with him. He felt like he’d forgotten something important, but he had no idea what it was.

_Izar…_

_"The question you should be asking," the old lady began, "is where is it?"_

“Newt?”

He stood up quickly, eyes matching Alby’s with shocking intensity. “I need a bloody map.”

 

♛♛♛

 

Newt felt as if his feet were moving on his own, as he practically stormed through the hallways.

“Your Highness,” he heard Alby say, the title now placed on him because of the public setting, “what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later,” he murmured in answer. “I need to find Minho first.”

“He ain’t here.”

The prince stopped in his tracks, almost making Alby stumble into him. “What? Where is he?”

“At Lady Harriet’s.”

“What the shuck is he doing there?”

Alby shrugged. “Beats me, Your Highness,” he answered, a scowl crossing his face. “Can you slow down and explain a few things to me, now?”

“I can’t do it here,” Newt responded, beginning to walk again. He heard Alby sigh, but acquiescence him as he began to follow him again. The prince walked with such a purpose a few servants gave him curious stares. Newt ignored them as he turned into a different hallway, leading into a room he honestly hadn’t been into in years.

“Why are we at the library?” Alby questioned, but was only met with Newt’s silence.

The library was a spacious room, lit by a large window at the back of the room. Shelves lined the walls, a ladder connected in order to reach the books on top. There were a few shelves and tables placed in the center of the room, which was lowered then the rest of the room, with two steps leading down to it. Newt felt his body move on it’s own as he walked down to the shelves in the center, hands brushing against the book spines as he searched for the book he needed.

“There it is,” he murmured, taking the book out. It was a dark blue, the cover old and worn and the title printed in gold.

“An atlas,” Alby stated, probably just for the sake of it. He still looked awfully confused, but a lot more patient.

Newt glanced around the room, watching as the only maid that was in the room, quietly leave, feather duster in hand. He quickly walked to a table, placing the book on it as he flipped through the pages in an almost frantic matter. He accidently passed the page he was looking for, quickly turning back. A strange sense of deja vu passed through him as he stared at the Scorch Kingdom’s complete map. When he looked at his hands, they were suddenly small, like a young boy’s. When he blinked, they returned to their original size.

_Ah, that’s right…_

Without any hesitation whatsoever, Newt ripped the page out of the book.

“What are you--” Alby started to exclaim, before trailing off.

Newt was holding the page up, letting the light streaming through the window pass through it.

“An island,” he said softly.

_I’ve already found you before, Izar._

 

♛♛♛

  ****

The door opened before Minho even had a chance to knock.

“Good. You’re here,” Harriet said with a nod, opening the door wider to let him in.

“Hello to you too,” the knight replied dryly, before glancing around. Of course, a noble’s house wouldn’t be anything in comparison to the castle, but that still didn’t mean Minho couldn’t resist himself from whistling at the spiral staircase and mahogany flooring. It was more than he could ever dream of having, when he was a kid, living on the streets.

“Nice place you got here,” he said, not really trying to come off as obnoxious, but still sounding like it anyway. Damn it.

Harriet rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Come with me,” she said, breezing past him into a corridor. He quickly followed, boots thumping on the wooden floor.

“Where are we going?” He asked, moving out of the way when a maid quickly bustled buy, hands full with folded sheets.

“My office.”

The noblewoman stopped at a room with double doors, hand slipping into the sleeve of her dress to pull out a key. “I like my privacy,” she explained, noticing Minho’s look.

The door unlocked with a click, and Harriet opened it for him, leading Minho inside. When the door closed behind them, Minho could hear another faint click of the door locking once again. He smiled wryly. “Yeah, I can tell.”

“Anyways,” Harriet bypassed, running her hands against the shelves that completely lined her office, searching. “Something about the information you told me about the late king reminded me of something. So when I got home last night I started rummaging through a few records. I’m not sure if you know this, but my family has been in charge of keeping track of all the money spent and gained in the Scorch ever since it started.”

“Thanks for the history lesson,” Minho replied, “but how does that help us?”

“You’d be surprised,” Harriet shot back, seemingly finding what she was looking for as she pulled out a thick, dusty book. She plopped it on the table, and Minho coughed and waved the dust away from his face as she flipped through the pages. “Look at this.”

He blinked, eyes sweeping through the jumble of numbers. “What am I supposed to be looking at?”

If Harriet was annoyed, she didn’t act like it. “Look here,” she said, pointing. “The numbers don’t add up. Within just a few months, the kingdom had lost hundreds of thousand jewels. But there’s nowhere written that we had actually spent that much. So where did it go?”

Minho’s eyebrows furrowed, realization spreading through his mind. “It was spent secretely. On--”

“Weapons,” Harriet answered for him. “Boats. Technology. Things that cost a fortune when ordered by the mass.” She paused for a moment, turning her head to look at him, dark brown eyes filled with confidence. “You told me there was a chance the late king was battling with these people long before this thing started. This could be our proof.”

“When was this?” Minho asked.

She frowned, eyes scanning the page. “A year before the king’s death.”

“When the taxes rose to a new peak,” the knight muttered, remembering the disturbance it had caused in the town. “Well, shuck it. Maybe that damn in Daichi prisoner was right all along.”

♛♛♛

 

Newt felt himself break a sweat at Alby’s stern expression.

“So you’re mother tried to kill you last night...and you’re just telling me now?”

“Well it hasn’t even been that buggin’ long since it happened,” Newt defended, as he threw a rock into the pond, watching the water ripple.  The two were currently in the Glade, now able to speak freely.

“I don’t give a shuck!” Alby burst out, making the prince wince. “She tried to murder you! Murdering is a big deal! You should’ve told me right away!”

“In my defense,” he muttered, “we needed to keep it on the down low, anyway.”

Alby huffed, crossing his arms. “Whatever. Explain to me the map, now,” he said, eyeing the piece of paper in Newt’s hands.  

Newt opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it when he heard the door to the Glade open. He turned around, quickly relaxing when he saw familiar blonde curls. “Aileen,” he greeted, folding up the map and sticking it in his pocket.

She smiled at him, gracefully walking towards him. “Newt. Alby.”

Alby bowed, making Aileen giggle.

“What are you doing here? What about your studies?” Newt asked.

The princess smiled again, a flash of white. “My goodness, Newt, what have you been doing today to not notice the time? Lunch was just finished.”

“Really?” He questioned, frowning, before a sinking feeling filled his gut. “Did you have to eat by yourself?”

“No. Mother was there,” she answered, almost making Newt choke. She tilted her head, studying his stiff expression. “You still haven’t told me what happened last night.”

He hesitated. “We had an argument,” he replied, ignoring Alby’s disapproving gaze. “And it just got pretty heated. That’s all.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

Aileen nodded, easily accepting it. “I see. I thought it was something like that.”

The doors opened again, making the trio turn their heads. A maid stood there, her head bowed.

“Pardon my intrusion, Your Highnesses,” she said politely.

“What is it?” Newt asked.

“We’re in need of Alby’s assistance, if that’s alright with you, Your Highness.”

He and Alby shared a look. “It’s fine. You’re excused, Alby.”

The boy nodded, giving the prince a look that said, _we’ll talk later_ , before quickly bowing and leaving.

Newt watched him go, waiting for the door to close before turning to look at Aileen. “Well, Little Bugger. How’s your day been going? We haven’t had time alone like this in a buggin’ long time.”

“I wonder who’s fault is that,” she teased, flipping her hair back. “My day’s been fine. Can I braid your hair?”

Newt blinked. “Why the shuck would you want to do that?”

“Please?” Aileen pleaded. “I need to practice.”

He scoffed. “Practice for what? You could ask anyone in this kingdom to braid your bloody hair. And besides, can’t you practice on your dolls?”

“I don’t play with dolls!” Aileen exclaimed, pouting. “And it’s not the same, anyway!”

Newt sighed, turning his back to her in consent, practically feeling the smile that spread across her face.

Aileen hummed a tune Newt was sure she was just making up on the spot as she began her work, fingers gently combing through his hair. Newt felt himself relax at the feeling. He wouldn’t dare admit it, but this felt pretty nice. “Your hair’s getting really long, Newt,” she stated, and he grumbled in agreement. “Are you gonna cut it?”

He frowned in thought. “I don’t know. It does get in the bloody way sometimes.”

“I could braid it for you everyday then!” Aileen exclaimed, giggling. “That way, it won’t be in your face.”

“Knowing you, you’d probably put some buggin’ flowers in my hair or something,” he muttered. At Aileen’s sudden silence he stiffened. “Aileen,” he said sternly, “you’re not braiding flowers into my hair, are you?” She stayed silent. “Aileen!”

She laughed. “I’m just joking, Newt. Now stay still,” she answered, making him relax.

They stayed like that for a while, Aileen braiding his hair and restarting when she finished. It was nice. Newt had been so busy the past few months--he barely had time to see Aileen at all. He knew she must’ve been lonely. All the nobility’s children were either too old or too young for her; she could never connect with them well.

“Hey, Newt,” Aileen said softly, “do you miss father?”

He tensed, but quickly made himself relax. “What kind of question is that?”

“Do you?” The young princess persisted.

Newt sighed, not answering right away. “Yeah, I s’pose.”

“Liar,” Aileen interjected, “you miss him a lot.”

He smiled wryly. “Well, if you knew the answer, why’d you bloody ask?”

“I just wanted to hear it for myself, is all,” she replied. “At first glance, it didn’t seem like his death affected you very much. I wasn’t sure if it was an act or not.”

“Do you miss him?” Newt asked, already knowing (and sort of dreading) the answer.

She paused. “You had your favorite parent,” she answered softly, “I have mine.”

 _Aileen,_ Newt wanted to say, _our mom tried to kill me._

But he couldn’t. How could he ruin the love between Aileen and his mother? How could he ruin the image of Aileen’s idol? The relationship Aileen had with his mother, was one of the good things in her life.

He couldn’t take that away.

“At least we both have a favorite sibling, right?” He said, somewhat awkwardly, trying to change the mood.

“Yeah. It’s me,” she teased, making Newt smile.

“You really are a little bugger.”

Someone clearing their throat caught both of their attention.

“Minho,” Newt began, easily recognizing the figure, “where have you bloody been--”

Newt felt his heart stutter, face paling.

There, standing behind Minho, gold brown eyes wide, was Thomas.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE BIG REVEAL WOOHOO  
> I MEAN IT TOOK A WHILE BUT AT LEAST I GAVE YOU GUYS WHAT YOU WANTED RIGHT  
> And writing Minho is so fun omg I want to write him more  
> thanks for sticking with my inconsistent updates, guys...I already have a big chunk of the next chapter written though, so maybe I'll be able to update a lot sooner next time. (Plus I'm low key super excited about the next chapter..I mean come on I get to write everyone's reactions IT'S GONNA BE GREAT HA) (BUT SPOILER ALERT THE NEXT CHAPTER MIGHT ALSO BE SAD)


	16. I saw this one coming, there's no use in running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Newt and Thomas make out. And Minho is an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This. chapter. is. eleven. pages. on. google. docs. how did this happen.  
> I thought the sad/angst times were gonna happen in this chapter but I pushed it back because this is ELEVEN PAGES I CANNOT BELIEVE MYSELF. I literally did not expect this to happen. How did this happen. I am so confused.  
> But like, yeah. Consider this my super late Christmas present to you guys. Or, um, just a gift if you don't celebrate Christmas. Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!

Thomas looked into the distance, shading his eyes with his hand from the sun. “Hey, Teresa,” he began, peering into the horizon. Is that them?”

The two were currently at the harbor, along with crates filled with weapons, horse shoes, and the like. They were stacked in piles of two, and Thomas was sitting on a stack, while Teresa sat on the dock, boots off her feet and placed next to her hip, legs swinging over the side, splashing the water with her toes.

She looked up at his inquiry, eyes squinting at the light reflecting off the ocean waves. The wind blew her hair to the side of her face, and she combed it out of the way. “I think so,” she replied, standing up, leaving wet footprints on the wooden dock.

Teresa’s father had gotten a good deal with a merchant from Kai a few weeks back. Apparently, the merchant was a friend of Brenda’s, and it was her who told the man about the flawless weapons in Celosia. Usually, the Agnes’ had only served the people in their town. But apparently word had spread about the talent their family had. The merchant said he wanted to start a trade with their weapons, starting from Celosia, passing through Aitheria, where he had connections, and of course, Kai.

Two twin boats approached them, looking only like splotches against the horizon. Thomas couldn't help but feel a little excitement. He was already planning on sneaking onto one of the boats once everyone was preoccupied--but just to only look around, of course. He'd never been in a ship before.

The sound of thumping footsteps made the pair turn around. Teresa's father was walking towards them, dressed in his nicer clothing, with a somewhat anxious expression on his face. “Is that them?”

“Yeah, probably,” Teresa answered, smiling at her father’s nervousness. “It'll still take a while before they get here, though.” She paused, her expression sobering. “Do you really think this’ll work, Dad?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” The man replied, tilting his head.

Teresa frowned. “Well, it’s just, they’re asking a lot from us, and we only have three people.”

“You don’t think we can handle it?”

“It’s not that,” the girl replied, crossing her arms across her chest. “I’m just not sure if it’s worth all this work.”

Thomas tuned their conversation out, instead focusing on the ways the light reflected off the ocean waves. The topic of their conversation wasn’t anything new. Teresa seemed hesitant about exporting her work while her father was all for it; Thomas however, honestly didn’t really care. He didn’t really feel like he had a say in the matter, either, being a freeloader who mooched off their family. He knew the Agnes’ didn’t see him that way, but that still didn’t make him feel better. The fact still remained that without him, the Agnes’ would have a lot more food on their plate.

He turned his head and watched as the boats came closer, features coming more prominent. He could see their sails billowing in the wind.

 _One day, I’ll leave here,_ he thought to himself, before glancing back towards the castle. _After I finish what I need to do here._

* * *

 

Just as the ships were docking, a tap on his shoulder made Thomas nearly fall off the harbor. He whipped his head around, hearing a giggle.

“Brenda,” he greeted, running his hands through his hair. “You scared the shuck out of me.”

“That was the idea,” she replied with a smile, hands moving to throw her dark hair over her shoulder. Her eyes lit up as she spotted something over his shoulder, and she quickly strode past him. “Jorge!”

“Brenda!” A man replied, wrapping her up into a hug. He had dark skin and arms lined with scars. “How have you been, _hermana_?”

“Great,” she answered, pulling back to meet the man’s eyes. “Everything’s great.” She turned towards the Agnes’ and Thomas. “Jorge, this is Mr. Agnes, his daughter, Teresa, and Thomas,” she smiled at them. “Guys, this is Jorge, an old friend of mine. He’s the merchant.”

“Call me Adam,” Teresa’s dad said, reaching out to shake hands with the other man. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Same as I,” Jorge replied easily, shaking hands with Teresa before moving to Thomas.

Thomas felt a shiver run through him. His hands were ice cold.

 _And,_ he thought to himself, frowning as he observed the man, _so are his eyes._

“Is it alright if I take a look?” Jorge asked, snapping Thomas out of his thoughts. The man glanced at him, gesturing at the crates he was leaning against.

“Um,” he began, clearing his throat and glancing at Adam, “yeah, sure.”

He moved out of the way and Jorge stepped forward to open a crate. He gently pulled out a sword, unsheathing it. “Wow,” the merchant breathed, rotating the sword left it right, making it glint in the sun. “This is beautiful,” he praised, nodding at Adam.

“Actually,” Adam said, smiling, “my daughter made that one.”

Jorge whipped his head around to look at Teresa, who had an unsubtle smirk on her face. _“You?”_

“Why is that so surprising?” Teresa bit back, crossing her arms.

Jorge just shook his head in awe. “Wow, _hermana,_ you're really talented.”

Thomas decided this was a good time to leave. With everyone’s eyes on Teresa, he quickly snuck off, towards the boats.

Sailors were bustling about, unloading and loading items onto the boats. Thomas found himself swept up in the crowd, walking towards the boat closest to his left.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” A voice called out, stopping him in his tracks. He sheepishly turned around, eyes widening as he was faced with a girl around his age, with bright blue eyes and blonde hair. She was dressed in a tunic and skirt, which wasn’t that strange, but the sword that hung around her waist was. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a messy braid, and a bandana was wrapped around her forehead.

“What are you doing sneaking onto my ship?” The girl asked, pacing her hands onto her hips.

Thomas blanched. “ _Your_ ship?” He exclaimed skeptically.

The girl snorted. “What, you really think Jorge has what it takes to be a captain?” She shot back, rolling her eyes. “As if. He might own the boat, but I own the crew. And a boat this big without a crew is practically worthless.” She tilted her head at him, almost patronizingly. “So? What were you doing sneaking onto my ship?”

He frowned, irked at her superior attitude. “I’m with the blacksmiths. I just wanted to look around. I’ve never been on a boat before.”

Surprise spread across her face, before breaking out into a smile. She laughed. “Have you ever heard of asking for permission?” She teased, before walking past him. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Thomas blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. You looked all excited like a little kid,” she answered, laughing. “Like you just got a new toy or something.”

They walked together up onto the ship, the girl’s boots making thudding noises onto the wood. Thomas glanced around the ship in awe. Sailors bustled about, carrying items, all walking with a certain sense of purpose.

 _Wait a minute_ …

“Do you…” Thomas began, eyes wide, “have an all female crew?”

“Well, the majority of us are female, yes,” Sonya answered, voice tinged with pride. “Most of them are runaways, like me. You know, it’s hard for a girl to make a life for herself in a world like this.”

Thomas nodded in awe, staring as a girl strode by carrying a crate that looked double her weight.

“My name’s Sonya, by the way,” she started, turning to look at him.

He cleared his throat. “I’m--”

“Thomas!”

“--Thomas,” he finished lamely, and Sonya laughed again. The pair turned to see Teresa and Brenda walking towards them, her father and Jorge just a few paces behind. The plank leading up to the boat shook from their weight.

“For goodness sake, Thomas, what are you doing wandering off?” Teresa exclaimed, crossing her arms. “We’re doing something important.”

“I wouldn’t be much help, anyway,” he muttered back. “Besides, Sonya offered to show me around her ship.”

Teresa blinked, glancing at the other girl as if she just saw her, before exchanging glances with Brenda, whose arms were crossed. Sonya waved at them.

Thomas sighed. “Sonya, this is Teresa,” he said, gesturing to the paler girl, “and this is Brenda.”

Sonya reached out to shake hands with each of them. “Don’t worry,” she said, as she shook hands with Brenda, “he’s not really my type.”

Thomas raised an eyebrow in confusion, while Brenda flushed, sputtering.

“I don’t know what you’re--  
“Sonya!” Jorge called out, as Adam and him reached the group. “Just the person I wanted to see. You see, we’ve got a bit of an issue, _hermana_.”

Sonya frowned, flicking her braid back. “What is it?”

“We can’t commit to the amount you asked for,” Adam spoke up. “We’ve only got three workers. We can’t mass produce.”

“Jorge promised me two thousand jewels in profit,” Sonya said firmly, crossing her arms. “So either you make your end of the deal, or Jorge deals with getting a little less money than he’s used to.”

“ _Hermana_ \--”

“I don’t care, Jorge. I have a crew to feed. Unless _you_ want to take that responsibility for yourself, I suggest you give me what I ask for.”

“Why don’t you just raise the price?”

Thomas felt his face flush as everyone turned to look at him. “I mean, you said so yourself,” he started, gesturing at Jorge. “The weapons are really good. Why don’t you just raise the price and sell it off as a luxury item? You know, say it’s low in supply, which it is, and then show off how it’s better quality…” he trailed off awkwardly, suddenly shy. “You know. Supply and demand.”

Jorge raised an eyebrow at him. “You are that confident in your work?”

He raised his hands in defense. “Not mine, necessarily, but...Teresa’s and Mr. Agnes’.”

“Thomas is talented as well,” Adam cut in, smiling. “Just modest.”

Sonya frowned. “This could work,” she said, nodding. “Let me see them, first. My crew must’ve started loading them by now.” She turned towards a petite girl with short cropped hair. “Get me a weapon from the crates.”

“Yes, Captain,” the girl said dutifully, quickly heading off. She returned with two twin daggers in her hands.

Sonya picked them up with an ease that showed her experience. She rotated them around in her hands, examining them. “Who made these?”

Thomas swallowed dryly. “I did.”

She glanced at him, before suddenly flicking her arm back, and Thomas cried out in surprise as the dagger flew threw the air, stabbing through the front side of a crate a girl carried in her arms. She barely seemed affected, as if this was something she experienced frequently.

Sonya smiled at him. “We’ve got ourselves a deal.”

* * *

 

Thomas glanced out the window, heart jerking when he saw the sun almost setting. “I gotta go.”

Everyone turned to look at him curiously. They were meeting in Sonya’s cabin, papers sprawled across the large table in the room.

“Thomas?” Teresa asked, tilting her head at him.

“I'm sorry…” He said, almost panicked, eyes flickering at the window. Teresa followed his gaze and her face morphed into understanding. “I have stuff I gotta do, and it's getting late.”

“We can take it from here, Thomas,” Teresa said, nodding, while her dad just looked confused. Brenda crossed her arms, gaze dropping to the floor. Thomas quickly gathered his things, and headed out the door.

He was just about to walk off the ship when a voice stopped him.

“Thomas,” Sonya called out, making him turn around. “Do you want to join my crew?”

He stared at her, mouth dropping open. “What?”

She smiled. “I know a wanderlust person when I see one,” she said knowingly, crossing her arms. “And it seems like you've got a knack for money and trade. I think you'd be good addition. So, if you ever want to get out of here…don't be afraid to find me. I'll be here for the next two days.”

Thomas stared at her. This was...this was what he always wanted. He had _dreamed_ of being able to leave and explore the world, and to finally be given the chance?

He had always wanted this. But he just didn't want it  _now_.

Sonya seemed to notice his hesitation. “Think about it,” she said, smiling gently. “I'll be waiting.”

“Thank you,” Thomas breathed, giving her a nod, before quickly walking away.

* * *

 

Thomas hurried towards the castle, hoping it wasn’t too late. The meetings at the harbor had taken longer than he had expected, and in the end, he didn’t get a tour of the ship anyway, much to his disappointment. But he had become acquaintances with Sonya, who Thomas found extraordinary. She had traveled across the entire kingdom, and even into other countries--how couldn’t he find that amazing?

Her words to him rang in his head, but he shook it off. That wasn't important right now.

He glanced at the sky, noticing the way it was tinted orange. He hoped he could make it back to town in time to see Newt.

When he _finally_ saw the castle gates, he sped up his pace, running. He knew he must’ve attracted the guards attention, but he didn’t really mind.

“State your business,” a guard demanded when he reached the gates. The other guard remained silent.

“I’m here for the interviews.”

The guards glanced at each other. “Sorry, but the prince isn’t taking anymore interviews.”

Thomas blanched. “What?”

“Didn’t you hear the announcement?” The other guard said, speaking up for the first time. “There was one this morning.”

He bit his lip. Of course when there was an important announcement he’d be busy doing something else. “No, I didn’t. Look, I really have important information to give--”

“Yeah, yeah, sure you do. Look, the prince isn’t taking anymore information from the townspeople. Go home.”

Thomas grit his teeth. “You don’t understand! I _really_ need to see the prince!”

The guard opened his mouth to retaliate, but was cut off by the sound of horse hooves. Thomas turned, eyes flickering as he watched the horse and her rider came closer. He bit his lip again, but only to keep himself from smiling.

 _That’s quite a small horse_.

The rider, who Thomas realized was a knight, reeled his horse to a smooth stop, dismounting with surprising grace. He peered at him, examining his features. The knight had jet black hair, matching his horse, and tan skin. A permanent smirk seemed plastered onto his face. Even under all the chainmail he was wearing, he looked muscular and well, like a fighter.

“Sir Minho,” the guard on the left greeted, while the right one just nodded at him. Thomas raised his eyebrows. Though the knight was around his age, the guards, who looked much older, treated him with large amounts of respect.

Minho nodded back. “What’s going on here?”

“Well,” the guard on the left began, “This fella here keeps insisting he deserves an audience with the prince, when His Highness has already called those interviews off.”

“Look,” Thomas began, pleading, “I only need a few minutes, that’s it. It’s really important. You don’t even need to pay me or anything.”

Minho eyed him skeptically, making his heart droop with disappointment.

“No means no,” the guard said firmly. “Please leave. If you don’t, we’ll have to escort you.”

“Let him in.”

Three pairs of wide eyes looked sharply at the knight. “Sir Minho--”

“If he’s this desperate, there must be at least something he’s gotta tell us,” Minho said, crossing his arms. The skeptical look in his eyes were still there, but now there was also a sense of resignation. “I’ll take him with me.”

Neither guards moved, both hesitant. Minho scowled at them. “Look, His Highness is under _my_ protection, alright? _Mine._ I know what’s best for him. Don’t question me. Open the gates.”

The guards moved, and Thomas soon found himself walking into the palace.

* * *

 

“So…” Thomas began, head turning left and right as he examined his surroundings. The palace really was beautiful; Thomas found himself gaping at the marble floors and chandeliers. Minho was striding in front of him, somehow looking both lazy and determined. “What’s your position?”

Minho stopped in his tracks, turning his head to gaze back at him. “What?”

“You know,” he continued, “you’re rank. I was just wondering why those guys back there acted like you were the prince himself.”

Minho shrugged, before beginning to walk again. “I’m just a knight. Literally became one just a few shuckin’ months ago.”

Thomas blinked. What on earth did this guy do to make people treat him like that? _He must be super insane at fighting or something,_ he thought to himself, frowning. “Where are we going?” He asked, but was left with no answer. “Are you really just a knight? You acted as if you knew the prince personally or something.

Minho sighed. “That’s because I _do_ , shuckface. Now just shut up, would ya?”

Thomas bit his lip. That answer only prompted more questions to surface into his mind. But he acquiesced, using his energy to observe his surroundings instead. Each hallway seemed to be lined with large windows decorated with crimson red tapestries. Intricate paintings and carvings covered the walls. Servants scurried by, carrying linens and dusters. Thomas could hear footsteps echo on the marble floor from miles away.

Minho turned into a separate hallway, one that didn’t have windows and therefore was lit up by lanterns, and opened up a door. He gestured him to go in. “I’ll be right back. You stay here, got that?”

Before Thomas could even form an answer, Minho left, shutting the door behind him.

Thomas sighed, turning around to observe the room he was put into.  It really wasn’t much. Just a room with white walls and a few chairs. _You’d think that with them being royalty and everything, they could at least afford to put a painting on the wall or something._

Thomas stared at the chairs, debating with himself.

“Shuck it,” Thomas muttered, turning around and walking out of the room. He glanced left and right, knowing the chances of finding Minho were pretty slim, but deciding to do that anyway. He turned right, back to the hallway he was in before, before turning left, deciding to continue the path he was on before.

After a while of wandering, Thomas felt like it was safe to assume he was utterly lost. He had barely even seen so much as a servant walk through the hallway he was in, though he supposed that might be because it was close to supper time.

He ran his hands through his hair, trying to keep himself from panicking. Why didn’t he just stay in the goddamn room? He had no idea where he was, and he needed to get back soon so that he could meet Newt and have dinner with his family that still had no idea where he was, not to mention he _really_ needed to tell the information about the Flare that he had to the prince--

The sound of laughter stopped him in his tracks. He backtracked, heading towards the sound. For a second, Thomas couldn’t hear anything, but then the laughter started up again, and he quickly found himself standing in front of a large door.

_For some reason, that laugh sounds awfully familiar..._

Just as he had placed a hand on the doorknob, a voice called out to him.

“There you are, you son of a bitch!”

Startled, Thomas jerked his hand back, eyes wide as he saw Minho marching towards him. “You little bugger. What part of, ‘Stay here’ don’t you get?” The knight exclaimed in frustration, hands moving to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You know what, since you’re already here just--just stay right here,” Minho ordered, grabbing Thomas’ shoulders and pushing him to the wall right next to the door, where if he opened it, the door would block his view of the room. “You’re not allowed to be in this room, got that? So stay put.”

Thomas nodded, but Minho still looked unconvinced. Thomas sighed. “I won’t move, okay? I promise.”

Minho still looked awfully skeptical, but released him anyway. He opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind him. Thomas heard another laugh ring out and his hands twitched. Something about that sound just seemed so familiar, almost enchanting…

 _Sorry Minho,_ he thought to himself as he gently opened the door, making sure not to make any sound.

He felt his heart tremble.

What Thomas had thought was a room was really a courtyard, filled with gardens and even a small pond. A large willow tree stood in the center, encompassing everything around it. But that wasn’t what made his heart palpitate.

A boy sat in front of the pond, cross legged, eyes closed and gently smile on his lips as a young girl behind him braided his long blonde hair. Both were dressed luxuriously, the boy in crimson red robes and the girl in a light blue gown. The glow from the sunset outside made their skin and hair glow bronze. A tiara rested on the girl’s head, while a crown rested on the boy’s lap, glinting in the light. A sword rested in the grass next to them.

It suddenly all made sense. His lilting accent, his smooth, uncalloused hands, his pale skin, the way he walked and moved with grace, even with his limp, all his _goddamn_ secrets--

“Newt?” Thomas whispered, hands shaking.

And, almost as if he heard him, the boy’s eyes snapped open, making eye contact.

* * *

 

“Oh, dear,” Aileen murmured. She had noticed Thomas right away.

Newt wasn’t sure how long they stared at each other, but it felt as if centuries had passed before Minho finally noticed the intruder behind him.

“Hey! You little shank! Didn’t I say to stay outside?” The knight yelled, face red with anger.

Thomas didn't answer, just continued staring. If the situation wasn't so awkwardly tense, Newt might've laughed at the way Thomas looked; his eyes were about to pop out of his sockets, his mouth hanging open like a door that forgot to be shut.

“It's okay, Minho,” Newt said, making the knight look at him incredulously.

“What do you mean it's okay?” Minho shot back. “It's--he's in the Glade!”

Newt frowned at him. “Minho--”

Minho whipped around, dramatically pointing at Thomas, making him flinch. “You!” He ordered, “come here, right now.”

Thomas hesitantly walked over, face flushing at the intense stares that were focused on him.

“Hi, Tommy,” Newt greeted, standing up and precariously placing his crown on his head. Thomas followed the action with his eyes in almost a dreamlike state. Newt had been trying to lighten the mood, but when he spoke it sounded as if he were being strangled.

“H-Hi,” Thomas stuttered, “um. Hi, Newt. I mean--Uh, hi, Y-Your Highness? Uh…” He trailed off, cheeks flaming red.

Newt took pity on him. “Thomas,” he said, smiling gently. “It’s okay. You can call me Newt.”

Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again. And then opened it. And then closed it.

“Wait,” Minho began, “that’s Thomas?”

Newt blinked at him. “Yeah? Didn’t you know that already?”

For a moment, all was still. No one even dared to breathe.

“WHAT?” Minho yelled, and even Aileen looked surprised. The knight glanced between the two, whipping his head back and forth, making him look like an overexcited dog. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What the shuck does that mean? Didn’t you say you saw me and him together that one night?” Newt sputtered, suddenly embarrassed. “Why are you so bloody surprised?”

“It was dark!” Minho defended, hands gesturing in almost sporadic movements. “Excuse _me_ for not seeing every detail of his face when your lips were practically on it the whole time!”

_“Shut up!”_

“Newt,” Minho deadpanned, suddenly serious, moving to grip the prince’s shoulders. He glanced back at Thomas, eyeing him up and down before turning his head to look at him. “You can do so much better.”

“ _Excuse_ me--” Thomas began, but Newt cut him off.

“Minho, just--bloody hell, just shut the fuck up. Please,” Newt said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Aileen, who seemed the most composed, stepped forward. “Let’s try all of this again,” she said, smiling. She held out her hand. “I’m Aileen,” she introduced, “It’s nice to meet you, Thomas.”

Thomas glanced at Newt. “Your...sister,” he said, and Newt nodded. Thomas’ face suddenly softened into a smile, as if he was pleased with the revelation. He took Aileen’s hand and bent down to give it a kiss, making her flush and giggle.

Everyone turned to look at Minho expectantly. The knight sighed. “You better not kiss my hand too,” he muttered, “but I’m Minho. Newt’s best friend. And bodyguard,” he added, voice laced with warning.

“He’s also an idiot,” Newt put in, ignoring Minho’s squawk of indignation.

Thomas raised an eyebrow. “Just a knight, huh,” he said, making Newt’s eyebrow furrow in confusion and Minho scowl.

“Pardon me for being so straightforward,” Aileen spoke up, making everyone look at her, “but if Minho brought you here without knowing who you were, why are you here, Thomas?”

“Oh,” Thomas began, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m uh, here to give information…”

Newt gaped at him. “ _You_?”

“Yeah,” Thomas murmured. “It’s actually really important for you to hear.”

Newt felt thousands of questions crawl up his throat but he just nodded. “It’s almost dinnertime,” he began, “Minho, Aileen, you can all go eat. Thomas and I will join you later.”

Minho looked like he wanted to protest, but then thought better of it, nodding.

Aileen pouted. “Will you come by my room later?”

Newt sighed, but he was smiling. “Fine, Little Bugger,” he said, patting her shoulder. “It’ll be a bother, though.”

Aileen just smiled.

The group walked out the Glade together, but split off into different directions.

Newt and Thomas walked side by side, though there was more distance between them than usual. The atmosphere around them hung heavy and tense. Newt felt like electricity would burst between them any moment.

“So,” Newt started, clearing his throat.

“So,” Thomas echoed, “I understand the ‘certain circumstances’ that you were talking about before.”

Newt laughed, and just like that, the heavy atmosphere was broken. “I really was gonna tell you, you know. I had planned to do it yesterday but--” he flushed, heat crawling up his cheeks, “we got uh, a little distracted.” He ignored Thomas’ smirk. “I’m sorry I had to hide everything from you so long.”

“Don’t be. I understand why, now.” Thomas winced. “I really must’ve been shucking annoying, asking all those questions.”

“You weren’t,” Newt contradicted, before breaking out into a grin. “Well, you were pretty bloody annoying at first, actually.”

“Hey!”

Both of them burst out into laughter, the sound ringing and echoing off the walls. Newt felt a fluttering feeling emerge from his chest that spread all the way to his fingertips and toes. Their shoulders brushed, the distance between them getting increasingly smaller and smaller as they walked.

“I understand why you did that though, too. Besides,” Newt began, smiling. His gaze dropped to the floor, suddenly shy. “I always like being with you.”

Even with his gaze trained onto the floor, he could feel Thomas’ eyes on him. He felt his cheeks tickle from the sensation. “You're staring,” he said, realizing he was echoing himself from all those months ago, when Thomas was simply an interesting stranger in the crowd.

This time, Thomas didn't fluster. “I'm still taking it in, I guess,” he explained, “that the guy I like is a prince.”

“Is it that bloody hard to believe?” Newt replied, only half joking.

Thomas seemed to pick up on his underlying seriousness. “No. Actually, it makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it.” He smiled at him. “Doesn’t make it any less surprising, though.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Can I ask why a prince was dressing up as a peasant and sneaking out of the castle?”

Newt bit his lip. “Just wanted some freedom, I guess. The palace can get bloody stuffy, you know.” Which wasn’t a lie at all, but also not the whole truth, either.

Newt just didn’t want to dump all of his personal information to Thomas all at once.

They turned into a different hallway, heading towards the room Newt usually held the interviews. He knew they’d have more privacy, here.

“This room again,” he heard Thomas mumble, and glanced at him questionably, but Thomas just shook his head. Newt opened the door and the pair stepped inside. The moment the door closed, Newt found himself pressed up against the wall, as Thomas leaned in and gave him a scorching kiss that made his knees weak.

“I’ve been wanting to do that this whole time,” Thomas panted, when he pulled away, face flushed. He moved his hands to rest them on Newt’s hips. “I just wasn’t sure...I don’t know what this means for us, now,” he admitted, cheeks becoming redder. “I mean, I’m just a blacksmith--a _peasant_ , and you, you’re--” He cut himself off.

Newt reached up to wrap his arms around Thomas’ neck, fingers playing with his hair. “Do you wanna break up?” He asked hesitantly, heart in his throat.

“No!” Thomas answered quickly, shaking his head almost frantically. Newt felt his insides fill with relief. “Of course not! I just...don’t know how this will work. Like, can a prince and a peasant even be together like this?”

“Not really,” Newt admitted. He leaned forward to rest his forehead against the other’s. “But a king can do whatever he wants.”

Thomas laughed, and Newt felt his breath on his face, which should’ve been displeasing, but for some reason, wasn’t. “So I just gotta wait till you’re king?”

“If you want to,” Newt replied. He felt Thomas give his hips a gentle squeeze.

“Of course I do.”

He felt almost dizzy from euphoria. Thomas still wanted to be with him. He didn’t care that he was a prince, that he was much more than he realized at first, he wasn’t afraid. “To be honest, there’d probably be disapproval from the court,” he confessed, “which would cause conflicts later on. Political conflicts, that is. But we really don’t need to worry about that right now.”

Thomas pulled back to look at him in the eye, golden eyes flickering. “So then...what do we need to worry about, now?”

Newt frowned. “Well, nothing, really. At least, nothing considering...us. We can just be the same as we’ve always been,” he concluded, lips curling into a small smile. “Just with all the bloody secrets out.” He opened his mouth to say more, but shut it again when he felt Thomas’ hands sneak underneath his tunic. He felt his cheeks burn, and watched as Thomas’ eyes took a more mischievous glint. “We’ve got more important things to think about then that.”

“I agree,” Thomas said, already leaning in. Newt’s eyes fluttered shut as he felt Thomas’ lips on his.

“I’m supposed to be interrogating you,” Newt panted when they broke apart, but his gaze was still focused on Thomas’ lips, and by silent mutual agreement, both of them leaned in again, kissing heatedly.

After a few minutes, Newt reluctantly came to his senses. “Thomas,” he gasped out, but he didn’t seem to hear him, moving down to place kisses on Newt’s neck. “Thomas,” he said again, shivering. “Tho--oh bloody hell, Tommy, come on, didn’t you say you had important things to tell me?”

That seemed to do it. Thomas leaned back, face sobering. “R-Right,” he said, nodding. There was a pause before he let go of Newt completely, backing away from him to give him space.

“Right,” Newt imitated. He brushed past him to walk into the other room, Thomas following him. He sat down by the table, gesturing for Thomas to do the same. They stared at each other for a moment.

“So,” Newt began, “Tell me everything you know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everything guys.


	17. life doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints, it takes and it takes and it takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which several things are discussed. trigger warning for self harm and depression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey i'm still alive lol...god okay I have so many excuses but I'm not gonna say all of them...just know that at one point my laptop was broken...  
> again, trigger warning for self harm and depression and all that.

Thomas opened his mouth to start speaking, but snapped it shut when he realized he had no idea where to begin. Newt seemed to realize this, and smiled encouragingly at him, a patient look in his eyes.

“They’re...called the Flare,” he began, gaze dropping to the tabletop. “My dad used to be a part of it.” He hesitantly glanced up at Newt, but the prince ( _ Prince!) _ held no expression. Dropping his gaze, he continued. “I used to live in a small village on the coast, on the very outskirts of Aitheria. It was a pretty popular place for travelers.” Surprisingly, Thomas’ eyes softened into a gentle look. “I remember hanging around the marketplace, talking and listening to some of the traveler’s tell their stories…”

The image of a young Thomas pestering travelers with his endless amount of questions made Newt smile. “You miss it. Your home, I mean.”

The blacksmith smiled wryly. “Yeah, I suppose. I think it’s more of the memories I miss. Anyways, a few years back, more travelers from some island off the coast started arriving.

“Island?” Newt interrupted, straightening in his seat, “what was the name of the island?”

Thomas frowned. “I don’t really know, to be honest. My dad kept me away from those travelers most of the time. But he was a merchant, so he often spoke to them.”

_ Izar, _ Newt thought to himself,  _ that island must be Izar. _ He motioned Thomas to continue. 

“People began talking about a group forming,” he began, “at the same time, tax increases were ordered,  _ again _ ...and people became angry. Including my dad.”

Newt clenched his fists at that.

“The people from the island, they seemed to know what to do to get everyone to band together. They talked about how they already experienced injustice by the king and were banished from the mainland, and now they were secretly moving back into the country. They started calling themselves the Flare. My dad joined them, and a lot of other people in the village did too. The news started to spread to neighboring villages,” the boy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t really know what was going on at the time when it happened. I just knew that my dad was coming home less and less, and that my parents were fighting a lot more. My mom didn’t like the Flare...I think she thought they were too extreme.”

Newt snorted. “Yeah, murder tends to give that impression,” he replied bitterly. 

Thomas bit his lip. “There wasn’t any murders at the time, though. And well--” he hesitated. 

“Spit it out, Tommy.”

“A lot of people were unhappy during the late king’s rule,” Thomas murmured, eyes downcast. “Of course, there were people that loved him too, but they were mostly centered around Celosia. Outside the capital he was sort of unpopular.”

Newt gritted his teeth, dragging his hands down his face. His father’s image, that he had devotedly painted as something magnificent, was crumbling right before his eyes. Was he really so oblivious to the problems to his father’s rule?

“At first, when the tax collector came, we just refused to pay. Fought back when the knights used force. But then there were burnings and riots...the only thing I really remember is orange light coming in from the window and my mom--” He cut himself off, fists clenching. “Knights came and arrested a whole lot of people, especially the ones from the island. The whole thing was quelled down in less than a day. Barely anyone knows about it.”

_ Including me, _ Newt thought with a frown. “How long ago was this?” 

“About a year or two,” Thomas answered, crossing his arms. “I never saw my dad after the riots. Apparently, he wasn’t arrested--just left with the Flare without a goodbye, I guess.”

“What about your mom?” Newt asked, after a few moments of hesitation. He knew that Thomas’ mother was a touchy subject. 

Thomas tensed, before attempting a casual shrug. “I don’t know. I woke up one day and she was gone. The Flare took her I think, because they didn’t want anyone spilling info about them anymore.”

Newt swallowed, throat suddenly feeling dry with all the implications Thomas’ information brought. The years leading up to his father’s murder were beginning to make sense. The weary eyes, the whispers in the hallways, the fact that he knew his father was hiding something from him. His dad’s somber voice, saying,  _ I hope you’ll do a better job than me _ .

And now the clues were starting to line up together. The man Newt saw in chains in front of his parents those years ago, before the guard blocked his vision, must’ve been part of the rebellion Thomas was talking about. The fortune lady’s  _ not who, but where _ when Newt asked about Izar, the purposely hidden island on the map, must’ve been where the Flare came from. 

_ But the burn marks, _ Newt suddenly remembered,  _ what about the prisoner’s burn marks? _

“Did any of the members of the Flare have burn marks? The one’s from the island, that is.”

Thomas frowned. “If they did, I didn’t see them. Why?” 

Newt paused. “When I went to Daichi--” He held up a hand to stop Thomas from blurting out questions. “Yes, I lied when I said I was visiting relatives. I was actually going there to interrogate a prisoner that was caught. She had burn marks all over her body. Said it was Dad’s--my father’s fault.” 

Thomas noticed his slip up and tilted his head in observation. “You were close to your dad, weren’t you,” he noted.

Newt bit his lip. “That doesn’t matter anymore,” he muttered. “If my father did something wrong to our people, it’s my responsibility as a prince to find it and fix it.” He stood up, pushing the chair back under the table. “It’s getting late. Let’s continue this tomorrow. How about you spend the night here? We can give you dinner, too.”

Thomas stood up in a rush, waving his hands in front of him almost frantically. “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly--”

“At least stay for dinner,” Newt cut in, smiling gently. “We can eat out in the Glade, since it’s probably over by now.”

“The Glade?” Thomas questioned, blinking. 

“The courtyard you snuck into earlier,” he answered, chuckling. “You know, that courtyard is generally off limits to everyone besides the royal family. Only people given permission by members of the royal family can enter that courtyard. There’s even a special shuckin’ coin you get for proof, and it’s supposed to be a really important symbol of trust. That’s why Minho was so bloody pissed. You could’ve been sent to jail.”

“Woah, really?” Thomas sputtered, eyes widening. “I--”

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushed off, grinning. “You obviously have permission.”

The statement made Thomas quickly shut up, cheeks tinted red. “Now I feel like a dick for saying you don’t trust me.”

Newt laughed. “S’alright. You were acting pretty reasonably. Well, until you got bloody drunk, that is.”

“Shut up,” the blacksmith mumbled, cheeks flaring red again. 

As the pair walked through the halls of the palace, Thomas could feel thousands of questions on his tongue. How was the investigation going? What did they know? What was it like being a prince? When did Newt start sneaking out of the castle? How close was he to his father? What happened during the night Daichi was attacked? Or when the king was killed?

But as he walked next to Newt, who walked with his head held high, who carried himself with elegance even with his limp, who moved as if the crown on his head was a weight he had accepted with determination, he found himself a little awestruck. This was not the Newt spouted curses every few sentences, or tied his hair back messily, or walked with his head down and his hands in his pockets. But for some reason, it all seemed to fit together anyways. Yes, Prince Newt walked as if he was a man on a mission, while commoner Newt seemed content with just watching the world, but both were just so effortlessly  _ Newt _ that Thomas couldn’t believe that two such contradicting personas could intertwine themselves in the same person. 

Before heading to the Glade, the two walked to the kitchens, in order to tell the servants to deliver food to the Glade. 

“Your Highness,” the cook said, as he bowed, the other cooks and servants following his example. They eyed Thomas curiously but didn’t ask any questions. “And to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I’d like two plates of food sent to the Glade,” Newt answered, and Thomas watched as the prince straightened his back and squared his shoulders, the prince in him showing up even more. “My guest and I missed dinner.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the cook replied, “it’ll be sent to you soon.”

Newt nodded his thanks, before swiftly turning around, Thomas following. They walked in silence again, Thomas trying to secretly glance at Newt every few moments.

“You’re staring again,” Newt pointed out, smiling at his embarrassed fluster. 

“Sorry,” he replied sheepishly. “I’m still taking it in, I guess.”

“I guess me being a bloody prince is pretty shocking,” the blond said lightly, but there was something twisted in his tone.

Thomas frowned. “Well, yeah, it is, but only because it suits you so well. I should have known earlier, to be honest.” 

Newt paused mid step, turning to look at him, eyes wide. “Really?”

He smiled at him. “Yeah.”

The prince blinked at him for a few moments, pink creeping up his neck and cheeks, before quickly turning away, beginning to walk again. 

When they arrived at the Glade, Minho and Aileen were already there, along with another boy Thomas didn’t recognize. 

“That took a while,” Aileen said in greeting, blue eyes flashing as she smiled teasingly. The Glade was lit up with lanterns, making her skin glow bronze. “Are you sure giving information was the only thing you guys did?”

Thomas sputtered while Newt rolled his eyes, though his cheeks were pink. “We had to stop by the kitchens to get some food since we missed dinner. And Thomas had a lot of information.”

“Right,” Minho muttered, making Newt glare at him. 

“Thomas, this is Alby,” the blond began, apparently moving on, gesturing to the boy beside Minho. “He’s a very close friend.”

“I’m also his manservant,” Alby stated, reaching out to shake his hand firmly and giving him a studying gaze. “But you know, whatever.”

“Nice to meet you,” Thomas said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say or how to react to that statement.

“I shuckin’ hate that word, Alby,” Newt mumbled. 

“I know you do. That’s why I shuckin’ said it.”

The door opened, making everyone turn around. Thomas, expecting a servant with a tray of food, found himself surprised that instead, it was a knight. He noticed the three other boys tensing beside him, Minho’s hand immediately reaching to the hilt of his sword. 

_ Whoever this guy is, he’s obviously someone they don’t trust... _

“Sir Mark,” Newt greeted, tone filled with forced formality. “Is there something wrong?”

“A meeting has been called,” the knight replied. “Come to the throne room as soon as possible.”

“At this time of night?” Newt questioned, frowning. 

“It’s an emergency.”

The realization hit everyone quickly, almost feeling like whiplash. “I’ll be there right away,” Newt complied, nodding at the knight as he bowed before leaving.

“Newt,” Aileen began, “is it the rebels?”

“Probably,” the blond replied, moving to give the girl a peck on the forehead. “I guess this is goodnight for us.”

Aileen bit her lip in worry, but nodded. “Yes I suppose so. I hope everything will be alright, Newt.”

Newt’s eyes softened, and he reached to pat the girl on the head. “It will be, Little Bugger.”

She nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. 

The blond then turned to Thomas. “Sorry to leave you like this, Thomas. The servant with the food should be here soon. And Alby,” Newt addressed, moving to face the boy, “prepare a carriage to take Thomas home when he’s done. And take Aileen to bed when you’re done with that.”  

Alby nodded, already moving. Newt turned back to Thomas again, giving him a small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised before turning to leave.

“Wait,” Thomas blurted, grabbing the other’s wrist. He pulled him close and gave him what was supposed to be a quick peck to the lips, but ended up being a bit longer than that. He felt himself smirk at the blush visible on the blond’s cheeks, even in the dim light. He found that he didn’t even mind everyone else’s prying eyes. “Goodnight, Newt.”

“Goodnight,” the prince mumbled back, before being pulled away by Minho. 

“Alright, that’s enough you two, you guys are shuckin’ disgusting, doing this in front of the children--”

“I’m the only child here, Minho and I’m ten years old, I’ve seen plenty of kissing!” Aileen exclaimed.

The three friends left together, shutting the door behind them. In their absence, the Glade suddenly felt awfully quiet and still. Thomas turned to face Aileen, who had now sat down in front of the small pond, watching the moon’s reflection on the water’s surface. 

“Uh--” Thomas stuttered, only to be interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door. He moved to get it, feeling relief when it was actually the food this time. He thanked the man before closing the door, moving back to where Aileen was sitting. 

“Do you want some?” He asked awkwardly. The girl was being pretty quiet, and he honestly had no idea how to interact with her. “Since they got food for Newt too, there’s more than enough to share.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, smiling calmly at him, “thank you for offering.”

And then it was silence again. Thomas began to start eating his food, feeling completely out of place. Here he was, alone with a princess, with nothing to say. 

“You know,” Aileen began, making Thomas snap his gaze to her. She looked almost ethereal; the moonlight casted a blue glow on her hair and skin, making her hair shine silver and her eyes pop out even more. The jewels on her crown sparkled, as she moved to dip her finger into the pond, making the water ripple. “When Newt was fourteen, he tried to kill himself.”

He jerked in the surprise, the casual way she said the statement shocking him more than anything else.

“He’s never been good with his studies,” she continued, gaze still focused on the water. “He excels at reading but struggles a bit with math and politics have never interested him. People started questioning his ability to become king. Said his head was stuck in the clouds.” She frowned, finger drawing swirls across the water’s surface. “I think that’s what really got him,” she mused, “he became afraid he wouldn’t meet anyone’s expectations, that he wouldn’t be  _ good enough _ .” She smiled wryly. “I made it worse,” she said, the hand placed on her lap curling into a fist. “I was always praised for excelling at my studies. I knew he resented me for it, even though he always denied it. And not to mention, Newt looked up to my father, almost too much. The thought of him failing him hurt him more than anything, I think.” 

She took her finger out of the water and dried it on her skirt, opting to play with her fingers instead. Her face was unreadable. It was almost as if she were reciting lines from a textbook. “He started to spend more time holed up in his room. He stopped doing his homework. Stopped eating. Stopped talking and playing with me. He just sort of stopped... _ doing _ . Sometimes I found myself standing outside the door of his room, too afraid to see what was happening inside.” She raised her head to look at him, and that was when he found out the emotion was hidden in her eyes. He turned his gaze to his lap, overwhelmed. A child shouldn’t look that mature, that burdened.

“But then one day, he came into my room and asked me to come with him to the Glade,” she went on, her smile lined with disdain. “I was so happy. I thought he was finally getting back on his feet. We spent the whole day playing. But right before we went to bed, he gave me a hug. He told me, ‘Miss Trina always says my heads in the clouds. Sometimes I wish my head wasn’t so cloudy. I hope yours never will be.’ ” 

“A goodbye,” Thomas murmured, and Aileen nodded grimly.

“I remember thinking that I should tell Minho about what he said the next day,” she remarked, “but by morning the deed was already done. He’d slit both his wrists. Apparently it took him the whole night to bring himself do it, and by the time Alby found him he was still conscious and crying.” Her hands moved again, now deciding to play with the ends of her hair. “I remember watching them rush him to the infirmary and him saying, ‘I’m not even good enough to kill myself.’ ”

She laughed, but it was bitter. “I remember Miss Trina shielding me and being furious at her. She was trying to protect me from something I already understood. I knew what was wrong with my brother. I was smart enough to understand, even if I was only eight. The thing with being a kid genius is that until you’re an adult, no one will take you and your brain seriously.” 

He thought of the way Newt talked about his sister. From the way he’d talk about her, Thomas was always given the expression she was only a few years younger than him. Two or three, at most. Not  _ six _ . He spoke of her as an equal, almost as a  _ mentor _ .

“Newt does,” he found himself saying. “He always talked about you. You were the only thing about his personal life that’d he actually talk about.”

She smiled again, but it still looked weary. “After my father died, we got a lot closer. I was afraid that after my father’s death, Newt would fall into depression again. But that didn’t happen. After the first time, he made a speedy and spectacular recovery. Instead of worrying that he wouldn’t meet anyone’s expectations, he started pushing himself to prove everyone wrong.” She paused, gathering her words. “I thought my father’s death would change that. But it didn’t. It traumatized him, more than anything. He did see him die right before his eyes, after all.” 

The statement made Thomas’ eyes widen, but he stayed silent. He wanted to ask what had exactly happened that night, but felt like it was out of place. He could always ask Newt, later.

“Of course, he grieved,” Aileen continued, “but only for a week or two. After that he just seemed...angry. And more motivated than before. I think my father must have said something to him, before he died.” Her voice sounded strangely bitter.

“Aileen,” Thomas began hesitantly, “Did you not...like your father?”

She shook her head, and though her bluntness shouldn’t had surprised him, considering all her honesty till now, it still did. “I was never close to him. He never paid much attention to me. And I didn’t really want him to, to be completely frank,” she frowned. “I didn’t like the way he acted. Everyone around here said he was a fine king, but I couldn’t see it.” 

“Oh,” was Thomas’ blank response, unsure of what to say.

“But Newt adored him,” she acknowledged, sighing. “Anyways, the whole point of this was to show you that Newt deeply cares for this kingdom. And that he’s struggled and is still struggling to be the best prince he can be. He takes his responsibilities as a prince very seriously. He still wants to make our father proud, even though he’s dead.” She looked up to meet his eyes again, and this time Thomas didn’t turn away. “However, he also cares a lot about you. He’s been much happier after meeting you. But if you want to be with him, you have to accept his responsibilities. If you make him choose between you or this kingdom,” she began, voice giving warning, “he won’t pick you.” 

Thomas swallowed. He felt frozen by the wisdom in Aileen’s eyes. “I...I understand.” 

“I’m glad,” she said, smile finally genuine. She stood up, brushing her skirt with her hands. “That’ll be all. I’m happy we were able to talk like this. Have a goodnight, Thomas.”

He nodded, watching as she turned to walk out. “You too.” 

But something just didn’t sit right with him.

“Aileen?” He called out, just when she reached the door. She turned around and looked at him expectantly.

“If...if your head becomes cloudy,” he began, “don’t be afraid to talk to me.”

For a moment she seemed shocked, eyes widening a fraction, before returning to their normal size. She smiled fondly at him. “Don’t worry,” she reassured, “I’m much too smart to let that happen.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not had depression. I am close to many people who suffer from it. Which is why I chose to use Aileen's perspective of the whole thing, because like her, I'm seen what it does to other people, but have not experienced it myself. That said, if there are some things that you feel is not right, please feel free to tell me. I am always hesitant to post stuff like this, so I'm really sorry if I ended up being unrealistic or offended anyone...  
> btw I added a world map to the first chapter lmao so feel free to look if you want.  
> and yeah, the end of this fic is near...I want to end it in the next three or four chapters, if possible, which is why it says there's a total of 20 chapters now. Just a few more things need to happen before the very end! Thanks for being patient guys, I'm sorry for the long wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates on as many Sunday's as possible. (So not every week, sorry.) Story title is from "The Enemy" by Mumford and Sons. Tell me what you think! :)


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